As Juliet paused a second before speaking, Claremanagh answered for her: "The Duchess is feeling very tired, and as you know, I'm not well. We've about decided to telephone that we can't go out," he said. "But not _quite_ decided," his wife amended. "I think that if you prefer to stay at home, I shall go and make your excuses in person." Pat showed surprise. He had taken it completely for granted that she would not dream of dining at the Van Estens'. "No," he decided, after an instant's thought. "If you are equal to it, so am I." "He's afraid to trust me alone," Juliet told herself, "for fear I shall say something." "Very well," she said aloud. "You better hurry up and get ready, then. We're late as it is." Pat did not answer. Without another word or look he went to his room and shut the door between. Evidently Nickson had not been with his master to-night. Juliet wondered where the man was, and with a bitter sense of amusement pictured "Old Nick's" emotions if she began a suit for divorce against the Duke. She had always liked the queer fellow, who had been as fine a soldier, Pat said, as he was an indifferent valet: had liked him partly because of his thrilled admiration of her. Deeply as he adored her at present, however, that love was nothing beside what he felt for the Duke. It made Juliet a shade more miserable than before to know that the worshipping Nick would soon cease to worship. So far, she had kept back her tears, but they were becoming irrepressible when Simone exclaimed: "Oh, the wonderful pearls! _Madame la Duchesse_ has let them fall on the floor." The current of Juliet's thoughts changed instantly, and the brimming tears dried at their source. "The wonderful pearls!" she repeated, with infinite bitterness, sure as she was that Simone had been at the keyhole. But the look of pained astonishment on the woman's face made her wonder if, after all, Simone _had_ heard "everything." Perhaps she had caught parts only of the conversation, and had been trying to find out "for sure" whether she had heard aright. Juliet had perfect trust in Simone, so far as discretion was concerned, but it was within her estimate of the maid's character that she should eavesdrop. People of her class did that sort of thing and thought it no harm. It made the drama of their lives! Simone would keep her knowledge or her suspicion to herself, of course, until whatever was fated to happen had happened. Then, no doubt, she would tell her friends that she'd "known all along." Still, Juliet suddenly disliked the thought of being pitied even by her maid. Simone was aware that her mistress had looked forward to getting the pearls. It was humiliating that she should have instead a mere string of wax or fish-scale beads! If Simone had heard, it couldn't be helped. If she hadn't, however, she should remain in ignorance.