It was from Victoria that I learned of the return of the necklace. She telephoned me about nine o’clock Friday morning, and I was disposed at first to be rather touched by her consideration for my own anxiety on the subject. She cut short my congratulations, though, as soon as she decently could, and made it plain that she had no time just then to satisfy my thirst for details. She spoke suavely enough, but even over the telephone I could guess that her troubles weren’t over yet. “I wonder if you’ll do something for me?” she asked. “You’ve a spare room down there at the cottage, haven’t you?” “Yes,” I said. “Surely. Whom do you want me to put up?” I was rather hoping she’d say Punch, but she didn’t. “You’ve heard of old Mr. Ethelbert Smith, haven’t you? I don’t believe you’ve met him, because he’s lived in Paris for years and years and years. He’s an old friend of Mrs. Corbin. I think he’s older than she is. She invited him especially to come down for the wedding, and he writes this morning to say he’ll come. I can make room for him, but I thought with all the crowd and confusion here, he’d perhaps be more comfortable with you.” “I’ll be delighted,” I assured her. “When’s he coming?” “I’m afraid it’s awfully short notice,” she said. “He’s coming down to-day on the morning train. I’ll meet him myself and bring him around to you about eleven o’clock. Of course I want both of you to come over for dinner to-night--if you’ll keep him for me until then?” “I can see that he gets over safely for dinner,” I told her. “I don’t think I can come myself. A leg in a cast is a pretty awkward thing to dispose of under a dining table.” “Well,” she said, “I’ll argue that out with you later. It’s awfully nice of you to take him off my hands. He seemed just a little more than I could manage to-day.” Glad as I was to be serviceable, I wasn’t very much thrilled by the particular job Victoria had wished on me. She made it so plain that she regarded him as an incumbrance--she’d as good as said I wasn’t to permit him to escape to The Oaks until dinner time to-night--that I didn’t look forward much to six or eight hours of the ancient man’s undiluted society. I passed a restless unpleasant sort of morning, and by eleven o’clock I was feeling sorry for myself. Punch hadn’t turned up for his morning call. I was mindful, too, of Judy’s promise to come and give me a look at Bruce Applebury. Unless they came early, before old Mr. Ethelbert Smith arrived, I shouldn’t have much chance for a real visit with them.