As she came to that conclusion, she became conscious, to her own surprise, that in spite of his merry eyes, his liveliness and his charm, in spite of her belief that his guilt in the matter of Langton’s death could not have been that of murder, she was more afraid of Jack Rotherfield than she had ever been of any man in her life before. And she realised that in the rare moments when she got a glimpse of his features in repose, there were lines in his face which should not have been there, lines which indicated that, under all his surface gaiety and charm, there was all the hardness and the capacity for cruelty of an utterly selfish nature. CHAPTER VIII. THE MISSING SNUFF-BOXES When she reached home, Rhoda was met in the hall by Sir Robert. His usually placid countenance was disturbed, and a horrible suspicion flashed through her mind, as he came straight towards her, that he was going to ask her some awkward questions about Lady Sarah or Mr. Rotherfield. Advancing towards her so eagerly that it was clear he had been waiting for her, he said: “Oh, Miss Pembury, I’m so glad you’ve come back. I’ve been waiting for you this half hour.” Then, perceiving that she grew white, and was evidently alarmed, he added with a rather forced smile: “Don’t look so frightened. It’s nothing serious, at least nothing very serious. This way, please.” Trembling and cold, Rhoda followed him into the study, where he shut the door and made her sit down before he would come to the point. “Now I don’t want you to worry yourself, but can you tell me whether we moved the snuff-boxes from their place in the third specimen table from the end of the gallery?” Deadly pale, Rhoda drew a long breath. “No,” she replied hoarsely. “They were there this morning; I’m sure of it.” Sir Robert frowned in distress. “I thought so,” he said. “Well, come with me now, and you will see that the three best are missing.” “Oh!” broke from her lips in such a tone of distress that he put his hand kindly on her shoulder. “Don’t worry yourself about it,” said he. “They’ll turn up all right, I’ve no doubt. But, if you don’t mind, we’ll just go into the gallery together and make sure of the fact of their disappearance.” Scarcely able to walk, so overpowered was she by a nameless dread, Rhoda accompanied him along the passage which led to the gallery. Since Rhoda had undertaken so much work for him in connection with his treasures, the baronet had had a set of duplicate keys made, so that, while he kept the one in his own possession, Rhoda had charge of the other. She had been rather reluctant to receive this mark of confidence, not feeling quite sure that Lady Sarah might not resent it. But Sir Robert had insisted, and she had found it a convenience to go into the gallery when she had a spare moment, to go on with the work she had undertaken.