On the whole they had a very happy evening, and when Marie returned to The Monastery, she could not close an eye. Also next morning when Alan met her to catch the express, she informed him that she had heard strange noises during the night, and had been rather terrified. But of these things the two did not talk much until they were travelling towards London, and until Marie had assured herself that both she and Alan possessed the necessary articles to secure possession of the jewels. There was the letter of Simon Ferrier, and the signed agreement that the gems belonged to George Inderwick, besides a curiously shaped brass key which was supposed to open the box of gems now at Yarbury’s Bank, Monks Lane, Cheapside, London. Finally Marie held tightly on to the bag which contained the golden peacock without the production of which she would not be able to take the jewels away, as she intended to do. “And I only hope,” said Alan, when they were both satisfied that all was in order, “that Yarbury’s Bank is still in existence.” “Oh, Alan! I hope so. Why shouldn’t it be?” “Well the jewels were deposited there one hundred and fifty years ago more or less my dear, and it is possible that the bank may have smashed. There have been plenty of panics during the century.” “What would have become of the gems had the bank smashed?” asked Marie in a timid and rather tearful voice, for it was a terrible thought to think that her dreams might dissolve into thin air. Alan shrugged his shoulders. “Really, my dear, I can’t say. They might be passed on to another bank, or might remain with the reconstructed old one. On the other hand they may have been stolen and dispersed. I never heard tell of Yarbury’s Bank myself; but then I am not closely acquainted with what goes on in the city.” “I daren’t think of it not being there,” shuddered Miss Inderwick. “Oh it would be a shame if we lost everything at the eleventh hour.” “Well,” said Fuller with a philosophy he was very far from feeling, “let us hope for the best, and talk of other things until we arrive at Monks Lane. These noises, Marie? weren’t you dreaming?” “No, dear, no. Certainly not. I was wide awake. I fancied I heard a scream; it sounded like the cry of a woman in distress. Then there were footsteps—muffled footsteps far below. Of course The Monastery is haunted, so I thought it was the ghosts.” “Are there more than one?” asked Alan, suppressing a skeptical smile. “Oh yes. There are two monks, and one cavalier, and a lady who has no head at all,” said Marie solemnly. “Granny knows all the stories, and some of them are just horrid. This morning when I told her about the noises, she said that Henny and Jenny and she had heard them several times during the last week, but she believed they were only the ghosts. Granny is quite proud that we should have them, as we are such an old family.”