But at this moment the door opened and Tucker came in. His hair was somewhat rumpled by the wind, his hands were still in his pockets as he had had them during his constitutional on the front porch, and his eyes, contracted by the sudden light, looked almost white. "Well," he said, "are you enjoying this musical party downstairs?" All three listened in silence, and could hear the strains of "Home, Sweet Home" coming from below. "They have a phonograph and they are singing in parts," said Tucker, as if this somehow made it worse. "If we got Miss Falkener down, we might do something ourselves," said Crane, but there was nothing frivolous in his manner when he rang and told Smithfield there was too much noise downstairs. Smithfield begged pardon and had not a notion it could be heard upstairs. Crane said the boy's, Brindlebury's, tenor carried some distance, and, Mrs. Falkener and Tucker having gone, he added that the house could be shut for the night. Then he went to the table, and his eye fell again upon the miniature in the pearl frame. He took it up. There was no doubt about it, there was an extraordinary likeness to Jane-Ellen. He smiled to himself. How very charming she would look, he thought, in a mauve ball dress. Raising his eyes, he found Smithfield looking at him with an expression he did not thoroughly like. VI ON the stroke of seven o'clock the next morning, Burton came downstairs with that exactness which even the most careless man can display in regard to his favorite sport. The rigors of the cub-hunting season being over, the meet did not take place until eight. Cora was not yet ready for breakfast, and Crane went to fill his cigarette case before starting. The drawing-room was still dark and in disorder. Crane lit a match to find his way to the table where the tobacco was kept. It was the same table on which had lain the miniature of the lady in the mauve ball dress; and as he held up his lighted match, his eyes sought once more that enchanting pearl circle. The flame died down and burned his fingers before his eyes had encountered what they were looking for. He lit a second match, and then a candle, before he could assure himself that the miniature was really gone. He sprang into the hall and called: "Smithfield!" with a violence that had little respect for late sleepers. Smithfield came hurrying out of the dining-room. "Where's the miniature that used to be on this table?" "The what is it, sir?" "The miniature, a picture in a pearl frame." Smithfield looked thoughtful. "And what was it a picture of, sir?" "Of a lady." "In a black lace cap, and she with white hair, sir?" "No," said Crane, "she was young and lovely, in a ball dress and a wreath. You must remember it. It was here yesterday." Smithfield shook his head blankly. "No, sir," he said, "I can't rightly say that I remember it, but I'll inquire for it."