Beverley knew that her husband could easily have questioned Johnson behind her back, and then have entrapped her perhaps, through her ignorance of what had passed. He had chosen instead, to be as frank as he was hard; and while she suffered, Beverley thanked her husband for cold justice. "I must dress now," Roger said heavily. "I am dining at my club." Murmuring some civility to Miss Blackburne, Sands turned away. A moment more, and his wife heard his bedroom door shut. At the sound it seemed that her heart must die in her breast! She felt a sensation of physical sickness, and would have given anything not to have the pearl-stringer on her hands. Here the woman was, however, and could not be treated with discourtesy! "You will dine with me, of course, before beginning your work," Beverley said, trying to be cordial. But Miss Blackburne smiled and shook her head. She had had "high tea" at home with her mother, and could eat nothing more, she replied, thanking Mrs. Sands. "I'll take you to my boudoir," Beverley said kindly to the little woman in brown. "The pearls are there. You'll be surprised at their beauty." Miss Blackburne let her hostess lead the way. "There's a drama here, all right!" she told herself. "Has it anything to do with the pearls? But I shall know soon, I bet!" The Vision opened the door of a charming room. The light was already switched on, and the new-comer noticed that a door stood wide open between the boudoir and the bedroom, which, also, was lighted. Miss Blackburne guessed that Mrs. Sands had only just finished dressing in a hurry as her husband came into the house. Perhaps, on account of the pearls, her maid had been released from duty. Anyhow, someone had forgotten to turn off the lights, and ... but Mrs. Sands herself was explaining. "I left the door open between my room and this while I dressed," she said, "because of what you see on this table. I thought it might as well be here, as anywhere else, all ready and waiting for you." She made a nervous gesture, and Miss Blackburne saw on the table indicated a large oval case of purple velvet, slightly old-fashioned looking, and adorned with a splendid gold crown. The pearl-stringer knew something about crowns and coronets: duchesses, countesses, baronesses, and small fry like that. But this crown was royal. She was going to get good "copy" for her notes! Beverley's hand moved toward the purple case. She was in a desperate hurry to get her business with Miss Blackburne over, and escape into the hall again. She must try to have a word with Roger before he went, though she dared not--literally dared not--go to his room. "You'll see the pearls, and----" she had begun, when her ears caught the sound of an electric bell; a loud, insistent peal. XVII THE MYSTERY OF THE BOUDOIR "It's Roger," Beverley thought. "He's ringing for Johnson--perhaps to ask more questions!"