“Now I come to think of it, sir, he does know about the cupboard. Going suddenly into the bedroom one day, without knowing that he was there, I found him standing by the cupboard, with the door open, and the diamond necklace in his hand. It was not my place to say anything, and it seemed no more than likely, at that time, that some day the necklace would be his own property. But, as regards the staircase, sir, I don’t know as Mr. Kester was ever told about that.” There was nothing more to be learned, so Lionel took a kindly leave of the old man, who seemed as if he could not sufficiently express his delight at not having been forgotten by “the new master.” Lionel neither could nor would believe that Kester had had any hand in the midnight robbery. Nevertheless, he sent word next day to the chief constable of Duxley not to proceed any further with his investigation of the affair. In his letters to Edith he had been careful not to mention the matter in any way. It would only have frightened her, and could have done no possible good. As soon as he was thoroughly recovered he set out for Paris. He had not seen Edith for several weeks, and longer separation was unendurable. One morning there came a letter to Edith, in which Lionel stated that he should be in Paris twelve hours after the receipt of it. What a day of joyful expectation was that! Edith could neither read, nor work, nor even sit quietly and do nothing. All she could do was to wander absently from room to room, touching a few notes on the piano now and again, or gaze dreamily out of the windows, or feed the noisy troop of sparrows that assembled daily on the window-sill for their accustomed bounty. She sent out for a Railway Guide that she might be enabled to follow Lionel step by step on his journey. “Now he is at Dover,” she said to herself. A little while later, “Now the steamer is nearly at Calais.” Later still, “Now he has left Calais. Half his journey is over. In six more hours he will be here.” “Come and have some tea, child,” said Mrs. Garside. “I declare you look quite worn and anxious. Mr. Dering will think I’ve been working you to death.” Mrs. Garside was very glad on her own account that Lionel was coming. The forms and processes of French law in connection with the property left her by her sister troubled her exceedingly. She knew that she could count on Lionel’s good-natured assistance in extricating her from sundry perplexities into which she had fallen. How slowly the hours went by; as hours, when they are watched, always seem to do! Mrs. Garside began to prophesy. “Perhaps the train will be delayed,” she said. “Perhaps he will think it too late to call. Perhaps we shall not see him till midday to-morrow.” To all which Edith could only respond with a doleful “Perhaps.”