"I wish you would take less interest in the child and more in my pearls." "Humor the child and let her show me the frock, then we will talk about the pearls." With a bad grace the contessa went with Nella into the maid's room. Quarles looked at me and at the fragments of the vase on the floor. "Do you find them suggestive?" "I am waiting to see the contessa in a real temper," I answered. The child came running in with the frock, delighted to have got her own way. "Aye, but it is dirty," said Quarles, and he became absorbed in the garment, nodding to the prattling child as she showed him tucks and lace. "And now about my pearls," said the contessa. Quarles put down the frock and stood up. "There is the case," he said, taking it from his pocket; "we have got to put the pearls into it, Contessa, may I look into your bedroom?" The request astonished her, and it puzzled me. "Why, yes, if you like." She went to the door, and we all followed her. "A dainty room," said the professor. "It is like you, contessa." She laughed at the absurdity of the remark, and yet there was some truth in it. The room wasn't really untidy, but it was not the abode of an orderly person. A hat was on the bed, thrown there apparently, a pair of gloves on the floor. "I can always tell what a woman is like by seeing where she lives," said Quarles. "There is no toy on the mantelpiece which Nella could break. A pretty dressing-table, contessa." He crossed to it and began examining the things upon it--silver-mounted bottles and boxes. He lifted lids and looked at the contents--powder in this pot, rouge in that--and for a few moments the contessa was too astonished to speak. Then there came a flash into her eyes resenting the impertinence. "Really, monsieur--" "Ah!" exclaimed Quarles, turning from the table with a pot in his hand. "I want it," said the child, stretching herself up for it. "Evidently Nella has played with this before, contessa. A French preparation for softening the skin, I see. I should guess she was playing with it as she crawled about the floor that afternoon. You didn't notice her. I can quite understand a child being quiet for a long time with this to mess about with. There was grease on her frock, and look! the smoothed surface of this cream bears the marks of little fingers, if I am not mistaken. It is quite a moist cream, readily disarranged, easily smoothed flat again. Let us hope there is no ingredient in it which will hurt--pearls." He had dug his fingers into the stuff and produced the earrings. "You will find a grease mark on the case," he went on. "It is evident you could not have put the case away. Nella possessed herself of it when your back was turned, and, playing with this cream, amused herself by burying the pearls in it--just the sort of game to fascinate a child." "I remember she was playing with that pot. I did not think she could get the lid off." "She did, and somehow the case got kicked under the bed."