It sank to the bottom, but it was not hidden. It lay there sideways, glittering. A fugitive ray of sunlight, striking the surface of the still water, found it and made merry with it. It sent a glint out of the gold like a flash of laughter in a dark place; it danced upon it and rippled over it--and then a tadpole disturbed the pool. Fanchon, still shaking, still filled with jealousy and misery, stared at the ring. It seemed to her that it mocked her, that it called her an outcast, that it laughed her to scorn. Her wedding-ring, the tangible sign of the link that bound her to William--how it flashed and glittered! Not even water hid it. Her lips twitched painfully, not with mirth but with anguish, and she covered her eyes with her hands. Shutting the sight of it out thus, she stumbled back to the path. She had scarcely tasted food that day, and she felt suddenly faint and dizzy; but she set her small white teeth on her lip, and her great eyes smoldered dangerously. She was wildly angry again now. She ran along the path and had almost reached the end of it when she wavered, then stopped short and stared at her hands. That third finger felt unnatural. It seemed to grin at her--white and bare as a bone. She felt for her gloves, and could not find them. She leaned against a tree and clasped her finger with her small, bare hands. In her agony of mind she clutched and tore at the bark until the blood came. The cut in the flesh roused her; she drew a deep breath and looked back. “_Mon Dieu!_” she murmured softly, and then: “_Non, non_, I cannot--I cannot!” So she went back slowly, reluctantly, as if she was drawn against her will. She went all the way to the edge of the pool and looked into it. Yes, it was there--her ring! How it gleamed at her! So might the eye of the serpent have gleamed in triumph at Eve in the Garden of Eden. She couldn’t resist it. She stooped and picked up a stick. Creeping out on the stone again, she tried to fish up her ring with the stick; but it went deeper; it seemed to wink at her and dodge her, burrowing into the sand. With a cry of anguish, Fanchon dropped to her knees, half in the water, and plunged her arm into the pool, digging into the sand with her fingers. Joy and relief shot through her heart when she felt the hard metal loop again. She had it! She staggered to her feet, holding it tight, but she wouldn’t put it back on her finger. She knotted it into her wet handkerchief and thrust it into her bosom. Then, blindly, weeping and shaken and dripping, she made her way back to the waiting taxi. XXVI COLONEL DENBIGH was pleasantly detained at the club luncheon. He went home in a taxi late in the afternoon, only about half an hour before his own dinner-time. Plato met him in the hall. “Miss Jinny ain’t eaten no lunch, no suh, an’ now she’s up in her room. She say she’s got headache, an’ not to wait dinner.” The colonel deposited his broad-brimmed hat on the table.