"I thought you were my friend, Mellersh," said Linnell, with his brow knitting. "So I am. Look." "I am not a spy," said Linnell coldly, and he turned away. "What have you brought?" said Lord Carboro'. "These diamonds, my lord, this string of pearls, and a large diamond bracelet. Look at these diamonds, my lord--" "Don't talk. I don't want everybody to see. Lay them on the table. No: show me the pearls." "They are perfect, my lord, and--" "Hold your tongue, man. That will do." "I'll slip out this bracelet, my lord. No; I'll go and give it to my wife. She shall put it on, and you can go and talk to her, and see how beautiful it is in design." "Hold your tongue, man. The pearls will do. How much?" "Three hundred guineas, my lord. They are--" "Bah! Robbery! I'll give you two hundred down. Do you think I want credit?" "But, my lord, I should lose heavily." "And a doosid good thing too, Barclay. You want bleeding. Am I to have them?" "Two fifty, my lord, as you are so old a friend." "Two hundred--in an instant. Yes, or no?" "Well, yes, my lord." "Give me another pinch of snuff, Barclay, and hold the pearls in your hand. Never mind the case. Thanks, that will do. Come for the money in the morning." The exchange was ingeniously effected, but Colonel Mellersh saw it, and his lips tightened as he glanced at Richard Linnell. "He's got the pearls, old woman," said Barclay, going back to his wife where she sat fanning herself, and alone. "How much?" "Two hundred guineas." "Let's see; you gave the Hon. Mrs Bedam fifty for 'em, didn't you, Josiah?" "Yes; but they're worth a hundred, honestly." "And is he going to give 'em to Claire?" "Don't know. Wait." "Lady Drelincourt, Sir Matthew Bray, Colonel Lascelles," announced Isaac; and, before the small talk was half over, he shouted again: "Sir Harry Payne, Major Rockley, Mr Morton Denville." Richard Linnell told himself that he was no spy, but he could not keep his eyes from the group, as the officers entered, and were received by Claire. It was a crucial meeting, but she bore it well, bowing rather stiffly to Major Rockley as he advanced in a deprecating way; and he was evidently about to stay by her side, but Isaac announced: "Mrs and Miss Dean." There was a little buzz of excitement. "Mrs Pontardent." This lady meant to be before her _protegees_; but she was in time after all, and after a quiet, unaffected welcome from Claire, they formed a little group by themselves, about whom, like flies attracted by bright colours, the officers buzzed. Mrs Pontardent was a tall, good-looking, lady-like woman, who patronised the Master of the Ceremonies when they spoke, and complimented him upon the appearance of "his little girl." "You must bring her to one of my evenings, Denville."