“How can Jose get in then?” interrupted Pearl.

“Jose has a key to your father’s locker, and in that locker he keeps a rope ladder.  Jose throws up the ladder and the hooks catch on a dark, narrow little ledge; climbing up to this, he finds a small opening; he wriggles into this and finds himself in a small chamber which your father always keeps well provisioned.  From this chamber a narrow passage leads up to the surface of the ground, thus providing two exits; but, of course, the one above ground cannot be used now, owing to the snow.”

Pearl, who had been listening breathlessly to this description of Jose’s hiding place, leaned back with a sigh of relief.  “Then it looks as if Jose might be all right for the present.  I do hope so for all our sakes.”

She sat silent for a few moments, apparently turning over something in her mind.  When she spoke again her manner showed a certain embarrassment.  “Do—­do you know,” she asked rather hesitatingly, “how they got the information?”

“No,” he replied.  “And that is what is puzzling all of us, but they have so far refused to tell us.”

Almost she uttered a prayer of thankfulness.  She very strongly suspected that the only way Hanson could have secured the information was through her mother’s inveterate habit of eavesdropping, a weakness of hers which she had failed to hide from her daughter, and a feeling almost of gratitude came over Pearl that so far Hanson had been decent enough to spare that poor babbler.

She took a last sip of coffee and rose from the table.  “I must go down to the other cabin,” she said, reluctance in her heart, if not in her voice.

“I will go with you”—­Seagreave rose with alacrity to accompany her—­“and get the fires builded.  It should really have been done long ago.  But what am I thinking of?  Wait a moment.”  He clapped his hand to his pocket.  “One never knows what avenues of cleverness and cunning a great temptation may open up.”  He laughed a little.  “On that wild drive to the Mont d’Or I insisted on Jose removing your necklace and all your rings with which he had decked himself.  I dare say it cost him immeasurable pangs, but he had no time to express them.  As I was driving he passed them over to Hugh, and when we reached here Hugh gave them to me.  He explained that in attempting to give them to you he might be seen, and if he were it might lead to some embarrassing questions.”

He drew from his pocket first the emeralds and then the rings, laying them carefully upon the table, where they formed a glittering heap.

“I don’t think it is possible that Jose withheld anything,” Seagreave continued.  “He would not dare, and I am quite sure that neither Hughie nor I dropped even a ring when he gave them to me.  Still I would be very much obliged if you will look them over and see if they are intact.”