Now Mr Manchuri was a dealer in gems, and it darted through Annie's fertile brain as she was returning to the hotel with Lady Lushington and Mabel that she might do a little stroke of business both for herself and her friend if she showed the precious necklace to him. The more she thought on this, the more did this idea fascinate her. It would be _very_, very much better than taking the necklace back to Zick or offering it for sale to some other dealer at Interlaken. The jewellers there were not so clever with regard to the true value of gems as was Mr Manchuri; and besides, it was quite on the cards that they might exhibit the necklace in their windows for sale during the afternoon of that same day, and there was also a possibility that Lady Lushington, who was always rather wayward and uncertain in her movements, might postpone going to Zermatt for a day or two; in short, it would be very much safer to consult Mr Manchuri with regard to the necklace. He was going to return to England that very afternoon. If he took the necklace with him all would be safe; but Annie did not dare to confide her thoughts to Mabel. She was certain Mr Manchuri would not betray her, but she had to act warily and with tact. Now Priscie had gone for a long walk into the mountains, and when she came back she was very tired. She went accordingly to sit in the lovely shady garden which was one of the principal features of the hotel. She chose a comfortable rustic seat under a wide-spreading tree, and sat for some time with a book on her knee lost in thought. By-and-by Annie entered the garden. She saw Priscilla, and was much annoyed. She knew that it was Mr Manchuri's custom to smoke in the garden before lunch. She meant to join him and have a pleasant little talk. But the most shady seat--the seat, in fact, which he generally occupied--was now filled by the--to Annie--ungainly figure of Priscilla Weir. "Oh dear me, Priscilla!" said Annie, pausing when she saw her friend, and looking at her with a great deal of exasperation. "Yes," said Priscie; "what is the matter?" "I want to sit just where you are." "Well, I suppose you can; there is room for two." "But there isn't room for three," said Annie. "Three?" said Priscilla. "Who is the third?" "Oh, never mind," said Annie; "I suppose we'll find another seat. It is Mr Manchuri; he is going to England, you know, to-day. He is such a nice old man, and I did think I could send a little present by him as far as London, and then it could be posted to dear old Uncle Maurice. I wanted to give him a _special_ message about it. But there, never mind."