“We can easily,” Lord Ashleigh declared, “find a temporary butler.  Macdougal has lived in New York for some years, and you will doubtless find this a great advantage, Ella.  I hope that my suggestion pleases you?”

Ella glanced over her shoulder at the two servants who were standing discreetly in the background.  Her eyes rested upon the pale, expressionless face of the man who during the last few years had enjoyed her father’s absolute confidence.  Like many others of his class, there seemed to be so little upon which to comment in his appearance, so little room for surmise or analysis in his quiet, negative features, his studiously low voice, his unexceptionable deportment.  Yet for a moment a queer sense of apprehension troubled her.  Was it true, she wondered, that she did not like the man?  She banished the thought almost as soon as it was conceived.  The very idea was absurd!  His manner towards her had always been perfectly respectful.  He seemed equally devoid of sex or character.  She withdrew her gaze and turned once more towards her father.

“Do you think that you can really spare him, daddy,” she asked, “and that it will be necessary?”

“Not altogether necessary, I dare say,” Lord Ashleigh admitted.  “On the other hand, I feel sure that you will find him a comfort, and it would be rather a relief to me to know that there is some one in touch with you all the time in whom I place absolute confidence.  I dare say I shall be very glad to see him back again at the end of the year, but that is neither here nor there.  Mr. Delarey has sent me the name of some bankers in New York who will honour your cheques for whatever money you may require.”

“You are spoiling me, daddy,” Ella sighed.

Lord Ashleigh smiled.  His hand had disappeared into the pocket of his dinner-coat.

“If you think so now,” he remarked, “I do not know what you will say to me presently.  What I am doing now, Ella, I am doing with your mother’s sanction, and you must associate her with the gift which I am going to place in your keeping.”

The hand was slowly withdrawn from his pocket.  He laid upon the table a very familiar morocco case, stamped with a coronet.  Even before he touched the spring and the top flew open, Ella knew what was coming.

“Our diamonds!” she exclaimed.  “The Ashleigh diamonds!”

The necklace lay exposed to view, the wonderful stones flashing in the subdued light.  Ella gazed at it, speechless.

“In New York,” Lord Ashleigh continued, “it is the custom to wear jewellery in public more, even, than in this country.  The family pearls, which I myself should have thought more suitable, went, as you know, to your elder sister upon her marriage.  I am not rich enough to invest large sums of money in the purchase of precious stones, yet, on the other hand, your mother and I feel that if you are to wear jewels at all, we should like you to wear something of historic value, jewels which are associated with the history of your own house.  Allow me!”