There was something in her tone which struck the maid to silence. She said not another word till they were on the ship. Then Lady Sellingworth went to the cabin which she had telegraphed for. “I am going to lie down,” she said. “You can leave me.” “Yes, my lady.” After arranging things in the cabin the maid was about to go when Lady Sellingworth said: “You have been with me a long time, Henderson. You have been very useful to me. And I think I have been a good mistress to you.” “Oh, yes, my lady, indeed you have. I would do anything for your ladyship.” “Would you? Then try to hold your tongue about this unfortunate occurrence. Talking can do no good. I shall not inform the police. The jewels are gone, and I shan’t get them back. I have a great dislike of fuss and gossip, and only wish to be left in peace. If you talk, all this is sure to get into the papers. I should hate that.” “Yes, my lady. But surely the police--” “It is my business, and no one else’s, to decide what is best in this matter. So hold your tongue, if you can. You will not repent it if you do.” “Yes, my lady. Certainly, my lady.” The maid was obviously horrified and puzzled. But she left her mistress without another word. They arrived in Berkeley Square in the evening. That evening which Lady Sellingworth spent in solitude was the turning point in her life. During it and the succeeding night she went down to the bedrock of realization. She allowed her brains full liberty. Or they took full liberty as their right. The woman of the grey matter had it out with the woman of the blood. She stared her wildness in the face and saw it just as it was, and resolved once for all to dominate it for the rest of her days. She was not such a fool as to think that she could ever destroy it. No doubt it would always be there to trouble her, perhaps often to torture her. But rule her, as it had ruled her in the past, it never should again. Her resolve about that was hard, of a rock-like quality. She had done with a whole side of life, and it was the side for which she had lived ever since she was a girl of sixteen. The renunciation was tremendous, devastating almost. She thought of a landslide carrying away villages, whole populations. How true had been the instinct which had told her that she was drawing near to a climax in her life! Had ever a woman before her been brought in a flash to such a cruel insight? It was as if a tideless sea, by some horrible miracle, retreated, leaving naked rocks which till that moment had never been seen by mortal eyes, hideous and grotesque rocks covered with slime and ooze. And she stood alone, staring at them.