Two or three days passed quietly over. Lionel drank the waters with regularity, and he and Tom drove out frequently in the neighbourhood of King Bladud’s beautiful city. Janvard always gave them a look in in the course of dinner to see that everything was to their satisfaction; but he still carefully abstained from wearing the ring. By-and-by there came a certain evening when Janvard failed to put in his usual appearance at the dinner table. Said Tom to the man who waited upon them: “Where is your master this evening? Not ill, I hope?” “Gone to a masonic banquet, sir,” answered the man. “Then he won’t be home till late, I’ll wager.” “Not till eleven or twelve, I dare say, sir. “Gone in full fig, of course?” said Tom, laughingly. “Yes, sir,” answered the man with a grin. “Diamond studs and ruby ring, and everything complete, eh?” went on Tom. “I don’t know about diamond studs, sir,” said the man, “but he certainly had his ring on, for I saw it on his finger myself.” “Now is our time,” said Tom to Lionel, as soon as the man had left the room. “We may not have such an opportunity again.” It was close upon midnight when Pierre Janvard, alighting from a fly at the door of his hotel, found his two lodgers standing on the steps smoking a last cigar before turning in for the night. In this there was nothing unusual—nothing to excite suspicion. “Hallo! Janvard, is that you?” cried Tom, assuming the tone and manner of a man who has taken a little too much wine. “I was just wondering what had become of you. This is my birthday: so you must come upstairs with us, and drink my health in some of your own wine.” “Another time, sir, I shall be most happy; but to-night——” “But me no buts,” cried Tom. “I’ll have no excuses—none. Come along, Dering, and we’ll crack another bottle of Janvard’s Madeira. We’ll poison mine host with his own tipple.” He seized Janvard by the arm, and dragged him upstairs, trolling out the last popular air as he did so. Lionel followed leisurely. “You’re a good sort, Janvard—a deuced good sort!” said Tom. “Monsieur is very kind,” said Janvard, with a smile and a shrug; and then in obedience to a wave from Tom’s hand, he sat down at table. Tom now began to fumble with a bottle and a corkscrew. “Allow me, monsieur,” said Janvard, politely, as he relieved Tom of the articles in question, and proceeded to open the bottle with the ease of long practice. “That’s a sweet thing in rings you’ve got on your finger,” said Tom, admiringly. “Yes, it is rather a fine stone,” said Janvard, dryly. “May I be allowed to examine it?” asked Tom, as he poured out the wine with a hand that was slightly unsteady. “I should be most happy to oblige monsieur,” said Janvard, hastily, “but the ring fits me so tightly that I am afraid I should have some difficulty in getting it off my finger.” “Hang it all, man, the least you can do is to try,” cried Tom.