It was ten o'clock; the hired landau was at the steps and Mrs. Lepell and her charges were ready to start for the ball. The lady herself, who was always admirably turned out, wore a dress of a delicate mauve shade, and splendid diamond ornaments. Verona, in white, wore her pearls and a wonderful bow of brilliants, which fastened her corsage; these being her most valuable possessions she had hoarded them in a little chamois-leather bag, and thus saved them from the thieves. No doubt her jewels and her dress were startlingly unsuitable to the daughter of Mr. Lepell's sub-manager, but she had resolved for once to enjoy the occasion, and to abandon herself to this evening's entertainment as the Verona Chandos of other days. Mrs. Lepell mentally seconded this resolution, and was determined that nothing on her part should be wanting to encourage the illusion. When they arrived at the Chutter-Munzil, the ball was already in full progress (Indian ball-goers are notoriously punctual). Mrs. Lepell was recognised by many acquaintances as she moved up to a raised platform at the other end of the room, sacred to sitters-out. Many a glance was cast at her beautiful companion, and, indeed, Pussy, in a smart pink gown, with her luminous eyes and smiling lips, was a by no means ill-looking young person. All sorts and conditions of people were present--a charity entertainment covers many classes--but there was a large preponderance of smart people, and crowds of men, the dresses and the diamonds well up to the mark of a London ball-room. Verona stood by her chaperon on the raised platform, and looked down on the scene--the great pillared hall, the wonderful chandeliers and the glittering show. A multitude gay with uniforms, bright dresses, bright faces, and bright jewels, whirled round and round to the strains of a languorous, heart-broken waltz. Among the dancers who swept by she noticed Captain Haig and Captain Fielder, and presently Salwey sauntered up and accosted his aunt. "Why, Brian," she cried, "I thought you told me that you could not possibly get away?" "I've just managed it at the last moment. I go back the day after to-morrow. One ball a year is not much. Miss Chandos," turning to Verona, "I hope you will honour me with a waltz?" "Yes, with pleasure," she replied. "Number seven?" "Very well," she acquiesced. "And what do you say to the fag end of this one? just to try the floor." Verona rose, took his arm, and descended into the vortex and found to her great relief that Brian Salwey, in spite of but one ball a year, danced delightfully well. As she presently stood aside a little out of breath, he said: "I've been trying to trace your jewels," and he glanced at her beautiful diamonds; "I see you had _some_ left." "Yes," she assented, "these I had sewn inside the sleeve of one of my dresses--they are the most valuable of all." "I believe I am on the track of the others," he said, "but the necklace--has gone to Delhi."