"Safe!" echoed Mrs. Toynbee: "why should they not be safe? They are where they have been lying hidden all these years. None of the servants have been told of the discovery; not even old Aaron and his wife." "By the way," cried Margaret Ducie, lifting her head from the pencilled notes she had been making of the suggested plans for the relief of the poor, "has that relative of theirs, young Stone, turned up yet?" "Not yet," said Mrs. Toynbee. "Nobody can imagine where he is staying. We think he must be unavoidably detained somewhere--though it is strange he does not write to say so." The meeting and conversation recorded above took place on Thursday afternoon. On the following Monday morning old Aaron Stone proceeded, as usual, to open the doors and windows of the Hall--for he would not allow that duty to be performed by anybody but himself. At an unearthly hour, as the maids considered it, whom he obliged to be also up in readiness for their work, old Aaron would be on the move. As he was on this day; there was only just light enough yet for him to see his way about. After unbolting the outer doors, he first turned into Miss Winter's morning-room, as it was called, which opened from the large hall. The moment he entered it, he saw that some one had been there before him. The lower sash of the window was thrown up, one of the shutters had been forced open, while sundry papers scattered about the floor betrayed that the escritoire had been visited. Aaron knew nothing about the jewels that had been found and left there; but the evidence of robbery was enough for him. Hurrying up to Miss Winter's chamber, he aroused her from sleep with his news. She partly dressed herself and followed him down. Her first thought was of the jewels, and she proceeded to examine the secret recess. Yes, it stood open. The jewels had disappeared; they were stolen. But not another article in the room, save the bureau, had been touched. Whilst his mistress was slowly gathering in these particulars, Aaron opened the other shutter, and stepped over the low sill into the garden. The hard gravelled path came close up to the window, so that he had little hope of finding any footmarks which might serve as a clue to the thief or thieves. But Aaron, glancing keenly about, saw something lying under a holly-bush, a little distance away, that for the moment caused his heart to stand still. To his old eyes it almost looked like Hubert; Hubert lying on his back. The sleepy maids were beginning to come downstairs then. One of them--it was Betsy Tucker--entered the morning-room, and stood half-dazed at what she saw. The window open, papers scattered on the carpet, her mistress, partially dressed, standing before the bureau, and Aaron hastening down the gravel path outside.