“Of course she was screening some one else,” said Vera.  “A remarkable feature of the affair is the extraordinary number of quite respectable people who have involved themselves in its meshes by trying to shield others.  You would be really astonished if you knew some of the names of the individuals mixed up in it, and I don’t suppose a tithe of them know who the original culprits were; and now I’ve got you entangled in the mess by letting you into the secret of the cottage.”

“You most certainly have not entangled me,” said Mrs. Bebberly Cumble indignantly.  “I have no intention of shielding anybody.  The police must know about it at once; a theft is a theft, whoever is involved.  If respectable people choose to turn themselves into receivers and disposers of stolen goods, well, they’ve ceased to be respectable, that’s all.  I shall telephone immediately—­”

“Oh, aunt,” said Vera reproachfully, “it would break the poor Canon’s heart if Cuthbert were to be involved in a scandal of this sort.  You know it would.”

“Cuthbert involved!  How can you say such things when you know how much we all think of him?”

“Of course I know you think a lot of him, and that he’s engaged to marry Beatrice, and that it will be a frightfully good match, and that he’s your ideal of what a son-in-law ought to be.  All the same, it was Cuthbert’s idea to stow the things away in the cottage, and it was his motor that brought them.  He was only doing it to help his friend Pegginson, you know—­the Quaker man, who is always agitating for a smaller Navy.  I forget how he got involved in it.  I warned you that there were lots of quite respectable people mixed up in it, didn’t I?  That’s what I meant when I said it would be impossible for old Betsy to leave the cottage; the things take up a good bit of room, and she couldn’t go carrying them about with her other goods and chattels without attracting notice.  Of course if she were to fall ill and die it would be equally unfortunate.  Her mother lived to be over ninety, she tells me, so with due care and an absence of worry she ought to last for another dozen years at least.  By that time perhaps some other arrangements will have been made for disposing of the wretched things.”

“I shall speak to Cuthbert about it—­after the wedding,” said Mrs. Bebberly Cumble.

“The wedding isn’t till next year,” said Vera, in recounting the story to her best girl friend, “and meanwhile old Betsy is living rent free, with soup twice a week and my aunt’s doctor to see her whenever she has a finger ache.”

“But how on earth did you get to know about it all?” asked her friend, in admiring wonder.

“It was a mystery—­” said Vera.

“Of course it was a mystery, a mystery that baffled everybody.  What beats me is how you found out—­”

“Oh, about the jewels?  I invented that part,” explained Vera; “I mean the mystery was where old Betsy’s arrears of rent were to come from; and she would have hated leaving that jolly quince tree.”