"How could I have been so careless?" she cries, in poignant grief and dismay. "I should have gone straight to the house and shown Sir Harry my important discovery. But I remember every word of it just as it was written. Perhaps that will do as well. I will go and seek Sir Harry at once and tell him all." Carelessly donning her wide-brimmed sun-hat she leaves the spot, little dreaming that she has been ruthlessly robbed of her treasure. "Are you sure--quite sure that you have not dreamed the whole thing, Lady Vera?" Sir Harry Clive asks her, incredulously, when she told him her story. The sensitive color mantles her delicate cheek. "I am perfectly certain of what I have stated," she answers. "It was only after I had found the entry that I fell asleep a few delicious moments. It must have been the greatness of the reaction from suspense and grief to success and joy that caused my sudden, overwhelming drowsiness. I remember that I kissed the precious words a few minutes before I fell asleep. I read them over and over. Listen, Sir Harry, I am quite sure I can repeat every word with perfect accuracy now." Slowly she repeats: "OCT. 30th, 188--. Mem. To-day presented Joel McPherson, sexton at Glenwood Cemetery, Washington, D. C., with a check for a thousand dollars, as a slight testimonial of my undying gratitude for his skill and co-operation with me in the act by which my darling daughter, Vera, was restored to me from the grave itself, in which she had been immured alive." As she slowly utters the words, Sir Harry jots them down in his own memorandum-book. There is a puzzled look on his broad, fair, intelligent brow. "If only you had not fallen asleep," he says, regretfully. "But, dear Lady Vera, this sounds so much like the vagaries of sleep. It seems real to you, I know, but I am almost afraid to pin my faith on it." "The lake is not deep; I will send one of the servants to dive for the book. I am sure he will find it. Then I shall convince you of my credibility," she answers, quietly, as she leaves the room. As she has said, the lake is not deep, and several of the men-servants at Fairvale Park are skillful swimmers, but for all that they cannot find the earl's memorandum-book beneath the shallow waves. All trace of it is gone. "Are you quite sure you carried it down to the lake with you?" the baronet asks, unfeignedly perplexed. "I am quite sure," she replies, with decision. "It lay open on my lap when I fell asleep." "Can any one have stolen it?" he asks, unconsciously hitting the truth. "Impossible," she answers. "I am sure if any one had come near me, I should have awakened. I am a very light sleeper." "There is something very mysterious about its loss. I am quite confident it did not fall into the lake," muses Sir Harry Clive. Lady Vera, on the contrary, is quite sure that it did, but she does not urge her belief, feeling a little wounded by his incredulous air, but after a little, she says, thoughtfully: