Sally stared in a state of dumb bewilderment that eclipsed all she had experienced before. Truly the world was topsyturvy this madcap night! What under the moon now? "You know how worried I've been about that affair in town. Men are so inconsiderate; simply because he knew how things were going--and I presumed they must have been going well--Walter left me without a word till this evening. Then he telegraphed he'd be here to-morrow afternoon and that everything was all right; but that he is bringing with him one of the adjusters for the burglar-insurance people--a detective, I presume, the man is, really--and I'll have to answer some questions before we can collect the money to cover my loss." "A detective!" "Adjuster is a much more pleasant name. And I know it's merely a matter of formality, and I oughtn't to be silly about it, but I can't help it. I've been on edge ever since, fretting for fear something would come out about that case that Walter did bring me from the safe, you remember. If that were found--as it might be, if they ask me to produce what jewelry I have with me--well, I simply can't think what to do." "Why not hide the case?" "That's just it. But where? I can't imagine. Of course I can't very well smuggle it out of the house myself. So I thought perhaps you . . . At any rate, I've brought it to you." "To me?" "Don't be alarmed. Nobody will ever suspect you of any connection whatever with the affair. It'll be perfectly safe here, in your keeping, until you find a way to dispose of it. To-morrow night, for instance, as soon as it's dark, you might take it down to the shore, put a stone in it, and throw it out into the water. Or bury it in the sand. Anything. Nobody will pay any attention if you excuse yourself to go to your room or out to the terrace for half an hour. But I--well, you must see. I've hidden the case under your pillow. You may find some better place for it--but then you haven't a maid to hoodwink. I declare it has nearly driven me mad, these last few days, trying to keep the thing out of Ellen's sight. She's such a nosy, prying creature." Mrs. Standish rose. "You will do this for me, won't you? I was sure I could depend on you. And--let us forget our little misunderstanding. I've forgotten it already." She had left the room before Sally could formulate reasonable protest--reasonable, that is, remembering her burden of obligation to this woman. It was an hour later before she at length settled upon satisfactory concealment for the incriminating jewel-case--in the recess behind a bureau-drawer, where it fitted precisely in the wrappings she did not trouble to remove. In the grey twilight of the dawn at last, she flung herself upon the bed--and fell instantly asleep. CHAPTER XI THE THIRD DEGREE