"When I think of that night at Cromer," he reflected--"you remember how wet it was, how the wind howled, and we hadn't enough fire in our lodgings, or enough money to buy food?--when I think of those days and realise how life has changed since our mysterious god came out of the machine, I feel very much like Rose. I feel like a pagan, Maurice. We're back again in our old lives, wearing the right sort of clothes, eating and drinking like civilised beings, travelling in comfort, and with a bank account growing all the time. It's good enough for me." "And for me," Rose echoed. I fell in with their mood. After all, the sun was shining and a long summer's day lay before us. "Begone, dull care," I invoked, "at any rate until our next letter of instructions arrives. Into flannels, Leonard, and then to the nets. I suppose they'll let me have a knock." "I shall come and watch," Rose decided graciously. Our entertainment at Lorringham Castle was in its way princely. We had a suite of rooms to ourselves, and a dining room which we shared with Charles Jacoty, the leader of the Duke's private orchestra, David Faraday, the famous illusionist, a Mrs. Middleham, widow of the Duke's private chaplain, who arranged the dance programmes and painted the menus, and a young man--Gerald Formby--the son of Sir James Formby, the agent to the estate, who presided at the dinner table and from whom we heard most of the gossip of the place. It was on the evening after the cricket match that we received from him the first inkling as to what the nature of our mission might be. "Have you seen the Lorringham treasures yet?" he asked Rose. She shook her head. "I don't even know what they are." The young man appeared incredulous. "You mean to say that you haven't heard of the Lorringham pearls and the seven tiaras?" "I've heard of them vaguely," she replied. "I didn't even know that they were on view." Jacoty leaned a little forward in his chair. Faraday also appeared to be interested. The young man lowered his voice a little. There was inherited awe in its inflexion. "The Lorringham pink pearls," he said, "are the most famous in history, although they are very seldom seen. They were last worn, in fact, by Eleanor, Duchess of Lorringham, at Queen Victoria's wedding. The seven tiaras are famous throughout the world. The earliest dates from the time of Charles the First." "And they are really on view?" Rose asked. "Not to the public. Whenever there is a house party here, they are generally shown to the guests." "They are immensely valuable, these jewels?" Faraday enquired. "They are insured for two millions," was the young man's portentous reply. There was a little silence. I chanced to glance at Faraday, and I was almost startled by the gleam in his sunken eyes. He sat like a man in a brown study, tapping the tablecloth with his fingers. "Has any attempt at robbery ever been made?" Leonard asked. Gerald Formby shook his head.