But Higson had not. She assured her mistress that the jewel-box was left on the dressing-table. At nine o'clock, when she went in to prepare the room for the night, she saw it there, safe and untouched. Without another word, Mrs. Carlyon set to work herself. The dressing-room had two doors, one of which opened into Mrs. Carlyon's bedroom, while the other opened into the boudoir where the little group had assembled to examine Mr. Conroy's sketches. After searching the dressing-room thoroughly, and convincing herself that the case was not there, the bedroom was submitted to a similar process with a like result. Mrs. Carlyon grew alarmed. The case had contained jewels of the value of more than three hundred pounds, besides certain souvenirs pertaining to dear ones whom she had lost, which no money could have bought. As a last resource the boudoir was searched, although it was difficult to imagine how the jewel-case could by any possibility have found its way there. Satisfied at length that further search, for the present at all events, was useless, Mrs. Carlyon sat down with despair at her heart and tears in her eyes. "Are the servants gone to bed yet?" she asked. Higson thought not. When she came up they were clearing away the refreshments. "Go and call them," said her mistress, rather sharply. "But don't say what for." "Higson seems very much put out," observed Ella, when the maid was gone. "Well she may be," said Mrs. Carlyon. "She is a faithful creature, and has been with me nearly a dozen years. _All_ my servants are faithful, and have lived with me more or less a prolonged time," she added emphatically. "I could never suspect one of them; but it is right they should be questioned. I could trust them with all I possess." The servants filed in, five or six of them, one after another; an expression on each face which seemed to ask, "Why are we wanted here at this uncanny hour?" In a few quiet sentences Mrs. Carlyon detailed her loss, and questioned each of them in turn as to whether they could throw any light on the affair. One and all denied all knowledge of it: as indeed their mistress had quite expected that they would do. No one save Higson had set foot either in the bedroom or dressing-room since ten o'clock the previous forenoon. There was nothing for it but to let them go back. Higson, who was crying by this time, was told a few minutes later that she too had better go: Mrs. Carlyon would to-night undress herself. The woman went out with her apron to her eyes. "I shan't get a wink of sleep all this blessed night," she cried with a sob. "Hanging would be too good, ma'am, for them that have robbed you." Mrs. Carlyon and Ella sat and looked at each other. The uncertainty was growing painfully oppressive. Had there been any strange waiters in the house, they might have been suspected: but, except on some very rare and grand occasion, Mrs. Carlyon employed only her own servants. And those servants were above suspicion.