“And the subject, as I said before, is not a suitable one for Christmas Day,” observed Mr. Fuller. “Marie, my dear, give us some music.” The girl obeyed with alacrity, as she had been yawning during the dreary talk of her elders. In a very musicianly style she played two or three classical pieces, and then with Alan sang some of Mendelssohn’s duets, in which their voices blended far more agreeably than Mr. Sorley approved of. The late conversation seemed to have upset his nerves, for he wandered in a restless manner round the room and betrayed a disposition to come between the young people, in strange contrast to his earlier demeanor. When Mrs. Fuller was playing an old-fashioned selection of melodies, called “Irish Diamonds,” which her husband loved, Sorley came to sit beside Alan and engage him in quiet conversation, while Marie and the vicar remained near the piano, listening to the variations on Garry Owen. “You must come over to The Monastery during this week, Alan,” said Mr. Sorley in a discreet whisper. “I should like to show you my collection of jewels, which will belong to Marie after I am gone.” “Oh, you will live for a long time yet,” said Alan affably. “I doubt it. I have my enemies like other men, and you need not be surprised if I meet with Grison’s fate, poor wretch.” “Whatever do you mean?” demanded the other sharply. “I mean that in the midst of life we are in death,” rejoined Sorley tartly, and in a somewhat enigmatic manner, “What else should I mean?” “I’m hanged if I know,” said Alan frankly, and spoke from his heart. He really could not understand the man’s strange reference to a violent end. “Well! well! well!” remarked his companion with affected cheerfulness, “it may be all imagination on my part. But when one has such a collection of gems as I have in the house, it is not improbable that an attempt may be made to get them on the part of some thief.” “Have you any idea that such an attempt will be made?” “Oh dear no. I speak generally. For my collection is valuable, Alan, although perhaps not worth so much money as those gems which were given to George Inderwick over one hundred years ago, by the Begum of Kam. Why do you start?” he asked in surprise. “Marie told me that she related the story of the jewels to you.” “Yes—that is—she did say something about the matter,” stammered Alan, “only I did not know that Kam was the place where George Inderwick went on behalf of the H.E.I.C. to serve as a native drill sergeant.” “Oh yes. The Rajah of Kam’s town and state in the Madras Presidency. You can see the manuscript to-morrow when you come over. Hush, the music is stopping; don’t say anything more. Let us keep these matters to ourselves,” and having thus forced Fuller, as it were, to be his confidant, Sorley strolled across the room to congratulate Mrs. Fuller on her still brilliant touch.