Mrs. Chepstow, unlike most newly made widows, had little or nothing to say about her late husband; she was much more communicative concerning a redoubtable cousin of hers, a military gentleman, who had latterly been on service in India. Nothing had been heard of Colonel Banyon for upwards of a year, and Mrs. Chepstow began to express fears regarding his safety. She was a comfortable, round-bodied, fresh-faced woman, easily moved to tears or to laughter; and it would have been evident, even had she more striven to conceal it than she did, that if her valiant kinsman would only return home, and avail himself of his chances, he might have one of the most admirable and affectionate wives in the world. The Colonel, as she described him, was a charmingly gallant and romantic fellow, much addicted to harebrained adventures and dashing escapades; delightfully fortunate, moreover, and at the same time contemptuous of fortune. His way through the world was always from good to better, from bright to brilliant; and since he was as generous as he was lucky, he was altogether just the sort of person one would like to be acquainted with. 'We were very fond of each other, and I don't mind saying it to you, sister,' the widow observed to Lady Kildhurm, on more than one occasion. 'We seemed to get on together so well, if you know what I mean. And I was very sad to have him go to the Indies, so soon after my husband died, too. And I remember, the day he went away, he promised he'd bring me back his hat full of diamonds.' 'A hatful of diamonds?' repeated Sir Norman, who had come into the room without being observed by Mrs. Chepstow, and had overheard her last sentence. 'Oh, Sir Norman, how you startled me. Yes, indeed, his whole hat full; and he has a good-sized head, too, I assure you.' 'How did he expect to come by the diamonds?'