"I was thinking about the necklace. Violet was too unwell to give it to me to-night, and she may not be awake so early in the morning. I should like you to take it with you, if it could be managed." "I can take a later train. It will suit me as well." "Is Violet unable to go with us to the Weynes' to-night?" said Sir Philip, glancing at his sister. "Yes; her head is too bad." "It is a pity we have to go without her, as the party is given in her honour. Of course, we must go." "Where is her necklace?" asked Musard. "Is it in the safe?" "No," replied Miss Heredith. "It is in Violet's room, in her jewel-case." "Well, as Mrs. Heredith will be alone in the house to-night, I think it would be wise if you locked it in the safe," said Musard. "There are many servants in the house." "I think that is quite unnecessary, Vincent. Our servants are all trustworthy." "Quite so, but several of your guests have brought their own servants--maids and valets." "Very well. If you think so, Vincent, I will see to it after dinner." The conversation was terminated by the sound of the dinner-gong. The guests came down to dinner in ones and twos, and assembled in the drawing-room before proceeding to the dining-room. The men who were not in khaki were dressed for dinner. The gathering formed a curious mixture of modern London and ancient England. The London guests, who were in the majority, consisted of young officers, some young men from the War Office and the Foreign Office, a journalist or two, and the ladies Miss Heredith had entertained at tea on the lawn. These people had been invited because they were friends of the young couple, and not because they were anybody particular in the London social or political world, though one or two of the young men had claims in that direction. Mingled with this very modern group were half a dozen representatives of old county families, who had been invited by Miss Heredith.