The cardinal came into the glow of the lights.  His cassock was black, but its hem, its buttons, and the pipings of its seams were scarlet; so were his stockings; so was the broad silk sash that circled his waist; so were the silk gloves, thrust under the sash; so was the birettina, the little skullcap that barely covered his crown and left to view a fringe of white hair and the rebellious lock upon his forehead.  The lace at his wrists was Venice point.  His pectoral cross was an antique that would grace the Louvre.  Pietro had done his work well.

The cardinal came into the zone of light, smiling.  “Lady Nora,” he said.  “Ireland is the home of the fairies.  When I was there I heard much of them.  Early in the morning I saw rings in the dew-laden grass and was told that they had been made by the ‘little people,’ dancing.  You, evidently, have caught a fairy prince and he does your bidding.  Within an hour you have converted the after-deck into fairy-land; you have—­”

Just then, out of the blue darkness that lay between the yacht and Venice, burst the lights of a gondola.  They darted alongside and, a moment after, the Earl of Vauxhall came down the deck.

“Serve at once,” whispered Lady Nora to the major-domo.

“Pardon me, your eminence,” she said, “you were saying—­”

“I was merely remarking,” said the cardinal, “that you seem to have a fairy prince ready to do your bidding.  It seems that I was right.  Here he is.”

Lady Nora smiled.  “What kept you, Bobby,” she said, “a business engagement, or did you fall asleep?”

“Neither,” said the earl; “I lost a shirt-stud.”

“Your eminence is served,” said the major-domo.

They stood while the cardinal said grace, at the conclusion of which, all, except the earl, crossed themselves.

“Was it a valuable jewel, my lord?” asked Miss O’Kelly, in an interval of her soup.

“No,” said the earl; “a poor thing, but mine own.”

“How did it happen?” asked Miss O’Kelly; “did your man stale it?”

“Dear, no,” said the earl; “it happened while I was putting on my shirt.”

Miss O’Kelly blushed, mentally, and raised her napkin to her face.

“It twisted out of my fingers,” continued the earl, “and rolled away, somewhere.  I moved every piece of furniture in the room; I got down on all fours and squinted along the floor; I went to the dressing-table to look for another; my man, after putting out my things, had locked up everything and gone to his dinner.  I couldn’t dine with you, like freedom, ’with my bosom bare’—­”

“No,” said Miss O’Kelly, glancing down at her topazes, “you couldn’t do that.”

“Certainly not,” said the earl, “and so I put on my top-coat and went out to Testonni’s in the Piazza, and bought a stud.  I was lucky to find them open, for it was past closing time.  They told me they were working late on a hurry order.  I put the stud in my shirt, raced across to the molo, jumped into a gondola, and here I am.  Am I forgiven?”