“Oh, Mr. Denby,” she called, “you were right, the fan was in my room after all.” Then, as she became conscious that the room was empty, she paused and looked about her closely. Presently her eyes fell on the precious pouch so carelessly left. For a moment the excitement bereft her of ability to move. Here, only a few yards from her, was what would earn her sister’s safety and her release from Taylor’s power. But she was no fool and collecting her thoughts wondered how it was possible so precious a thing could be left open to view. Perhaps it was a trap. Perhaps in the big hall behind one of its many doors or portières she was even now being watched. Denby had looked at her in a stern, odd manner, wholly different from his former way and Mr. Vaughan, of whom she had heard often enough as a pleasant, amiable fellow, had stared at her searchingly and harshly. An instinct of danger came to her aid and she glanced over to the door behind her which was slightly ajar. She remembered certainly that it was closed when she had gone upstairs for her supposititious fan. As calmly as she could she walked to the wall and touched the bell that would summon a servant. In a few seconds Lambart entered. “Please find Mr. Denby,” she said, “and say that I am here.” Before he could turn to go, she affected to discover the leathern pouch. “Oh, Lambart,” she exclaimed, “here’s Mr. Denby’s tobacco; he must have forgotten it.” The man took up the pouch, assuming from her manner that she desired him to carry it to the owner. “No, I’ll take it,” she said, and reached for it. Lambart only saw what was to him an inexcusably clumsy gesture which dislodged it from his hand and sent it to the floor, in such a manner that it opened and the tobacco tumbled out. But the girl’s gesture was cleverer than he knew for in that brief moment she had satisfied herself it was empty. “Oh, Lambart,” she said reprovingly, “how careless of you! Have you spilt it all?” Lambart examined its interior with a butler’s gravity. “I’m afraid I have, miss,” he admitted. “I think Mr. Denby went into the library,” she said, knowing that the door behind which someone--probably he--was hiding, led to that room. Hearing her, Denby knew he must not be discovered and retreated through the empty library into a small smoking-room into which Lambart did not penetrate. The man returned to Miss Cartwright, his errand unaccomplished. “Mr. Denby is not there,” he said. “Then I will give him the pouch when I see him,” she said, “and, Lambart, you need not tell him I am here.” As soon as he was gone, she ran to the window, her face no longer strained but almost joyous, and when she was assured that none watched her, lowered the curtain as a signal. Taylor must have been close at hand, so promptly did he respond to her summons. “Well, have you got him?” he cried sharply as he entered. “Where is he--where’s the necklace?”