But the guitar had kept its secret faithfully, until the hour came for it to be revealed. How it was that the sweet air seemed to haunt its strings we never could explain; it was one of those things that are beyond man's philosophy. That some mysterious power had preserved the instrument from destruction, we could never doubt. But we often recalled the vague rumour which said that the dying Inez had begged a native soldier to take care of her guitar. Unable to save her, the Sepoy had, probably, obeyed her last request. And I remembered that it was from a Sepoy that Monsieur Léon had bought the guitar at Bombay. "What if the diamonds should no longer be in the hiding place?" I said, suddenly breaking the silence. "Is it possible that they have been found and taken away?" "I think not," Ronald answered. "But we will know to-night." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XX. THE JEWELS. IT was no small surprise to Lady Waterville when we presented ourselves in George Street that evening, and it was no small relief to us to find her alone. She kissed me several times, cried a little over my thin cheeks, called me a fool, and expressed her gladness at seeing me again in the same breath. All the while that this scene was being enacted, Ronald, bursting with impatience, was standing with the album under his arm. "'Why don't you sit down, Ronald?" she suddenly demanded. "You look like a tax collector standing there with your red book." "There is something in the red book that I want to show you, Lady Waterville," he replied. "Oh, I don't want to look at books," she said, patting my hand, which she still held. "What I do want is to talk to your wife, now that I have got her back again." "But do listen, dear," I entreated. "We have a wonderful tale to tell. I suppose you won't believe us when we assure you that we know where to look for Inez Greystock's diamonds?" She did at first declare that she would not believe us; but then, growing interested in spite of herself, she let us read to her the lines in the album, and the directions written on the parchment label. Still protesting that the whole thing was a delusion and a snare, and assuring us that Inez had been half crazed for years, she at last consented that we should make our investigation. "Of course you must let Cox help you to move the portrait, Ronald," she said, reluctantly. "Poor Cox, he is getting old and stiff, like his mistress, and he doesn't care about exerting himself. But young people won't be satisfied unless we indulge their whims." "I will make it worth Cox's while to indulge my whim," said Ronald, quietly. So the elderly butler was summoned, and then we all three went downstairs into the dining-room.