Then he stood staring at her, speechless, utterly appalled, for her face, lips and all, had turned gray. “Back!” she said. “What do you mean?” And then like the crack of a whip, “Where is it? Who’s got it?” “D--Digs,” he managed to say. “It’s--it’s in grandmother’s room. In the box where she kept it. On her table.” “Digs found it, did she?” Victoria asked. “Yes,” Punch said, “she found it, but--but I told her that was where it would be.” “Oh God!” Victoria cried out. She sprang out of bed, pulled her dressing-gown around her and, without waiting for slippers, darted toward the door. Then she came back, and rummaging furiously among her letters in the morning’s mail found one which she took with her. She went straight across the hall with it to Judy’s room, and Punch followed right at her heels. He was afraid she’d send him back, but she didn’t seem to know he was there. Judy was in her room in bed, lying back comfortably in the pillows, her hands clasped behind her head and Punch noted that before she had time to read her mother’s face, she was looking a little excited, perhaps, but happy. Of course her look changed to astonishment when she saw her mother and Punch, and she cried out sharply, “Mother, what’s the matter?” “The necklace has been brought back. Miss Digby found it. Punch, here, was in on it somehow. And Judy, he’s coming to the wedding. I knew she’d ask him. He’s coming this morning. I got the letter on the early mail. Look!” Judy took the letter and glanced through it rather indifferently. She made a rueful face, but she said, “Oh, well, I don’t believe it matters so awfully much anyway.” “That’s all you know!” Victoria declared, furiously. “It will ruin everything. Unless I can think of some way....” She broke off and went to the window, where she stood with her back to them. “How did the necklace come back, Punch? Do you know?” Judy asked. Half-heartedly, hardly believing it himself now, he told his story of the man in pajamas whom he’d seen going up the stairs, of Miss Digby’s telling him she’d heard a door shut, and how he himself had figured the thing out. It was then that Victoria turned upon him. He didn’t tell me what she said, but Judy did later. “Punch, you little fiend!” Victoria cried. “If you took it, why couldn’t you keep it?” Judy cried out at that in horrified protest, “Punch didn’t take the necklace, unless he took it in his sleep. You _know_ that, mother.” “Yes,” she said, “of course I do. I’m sorry.” Then she said to Judy, “There is a way, just one way, and I’m going to take it.” With that she went back to her own room, and left the two children staring at each other. “Deep water, Punch,” Judy said. “But don’t you care. It’s all going to come out in the wash before to-morrow afternoon.” CHAPTER VII IN THE SUMMER-HOUSE