“Oh,” she gasped, “why do you stare so? Didn’t you know...?” They heard Strefford’s shrill voice on the stairs. “Ellie, where the deuce are you? Susy’s in the gondola. You’ll miss the train!” Lansing stood up and caught Mrs. Vanderlyn by the wrist. “What do you mean? What are you talking about?” “Oh, nothing... But you were both such bricks about the letters.... And when Nelson was here, too.... Nick, don’t hurt my wrist so! I must run!” He dropped her hand and stood motionless, staring after her and listening to the click of her high heels as she fled across the room and along the echoing corridor. When he turned back to the table he noticed that a small morocco case had fallen among his papers. In falling it had opened, and before him, on the pale velvet lining, lay a scarf-pin set with a perfect pearl. He picked the box up, and was about to hasten after Mrs. Vanderlyn--it was so like her to shed jewels on her path!--when he noticed his own initials on the cover. He dropped the box as if it had been a hot coal, and sat for a long while gazing at the gold N. L., which seemed to have burnt itself into his flesh. At last he roused himself and stood up. X. WITH a sigh of relief Susy drew the pins from her hat and threw herself down on the lounge. The ordeal she had dreaded was over, and Mr. and Mrs. Vanderlyn had safely gone their several ways. Poor Ellie was not noted for prudence, and when life smiled on her she was given to betraying her gratitude too openly; but thanks to Susy’s vigilance (and, no doubt, to Strefford’s tacit co-operation), the dreaded twenty-four hours were happily over. Nelson Vanderlyn had departed without a shadow on his brow, and though Ellie’s, when she came down from bidding Nick good-bye, had seemed to Susy less serene than usual, she became her normal self as soon as it was discovered that the red morocco bag with her jewel-box was missing. Before it had been discovered in the depths of the gondola they had reached the station, and there was just time to thrust her into her “sleeper,” from which she was seen to wave an unperturbed farewell to her friends. “Well, my dear, we’ve been it through,” Strefford remarked with a deep breath as the St. Moritz express rolled away. “Oh,” Susy sighed in mute complicity; then, as if to cover her self-betrayal: “Poor darling, she does so like what she likes!” “Yes--even if it’s a rotten bounder,” Strefford agreed. “A rotten bounder? Why, I thought--” “That it was still young Davenant? Lord, no--not for the last six months. Didn’t she tell you--?” Susy felt herself redden. “I didn’t ask her--” “Ask her? You mean you didn’t let her!” “I didn’t let her. And I don’t let you,” Susy added sharply, as he helped her into the gondola. “Oh, all right: I daresay you’re right. It simplifies things,” Strefford placidly acquiesced. She made no answer, and in silence they glided homeward.