Miss Strange, in compliment to the noble foreigners, had put on one of her family heirlooms—­a filigree pendant of extraordinary sapphires which had once belonged to Marie Antoinette.  As its beauty flashed upon the women, and its value struck the host, the latter could not restrain himself from casting an anxious eye about the board in search of some token of the cupidity with which one person there must welcome this unexpected sight.

Naturally his first glance fell upon Alicia, seated opposite to him at the other end of the table.  But her eyes were elsewhere, and her smile for Captain Holliday, and the father’s gaze travelled on, taking up each young girl’s face in turn.  All were contemplating Miss Strange and her jewels, and the cheeks of one were flushed and those of the others pale, but whether with dread or longing who could tell.  Struck with foreboding, but alive to his duty as host, he forced his glances away, and did not even allow himself to question the motive or the wisdom of the temptation thus offered.

Two hours later and the girls were all in one room.  It was a custom of the Inseparables to meet for a chat before retiring, but always alone and in the room of one of their number.  But this was a night of innovations; Violet was not only included, but the meeting was held in her room.  Her way with girls was even more fruitful of result than her way with men.  They might laugh at her, criticize her or even call her names significant of disdain, but they never left her long to herself or missed an opportunity to make the most of her irrepressible chatter.

Her satisfaction at entering this charmed circle did not take from her piquancy, and story after story fell from her lips, as she fluttered about, now here now there, in her endless preparations for retirement.  She had taken off her historic pendant after it had been duly admired and handled by all present, and, with the careless confidence of an assured ownership, thrown it down upon the end of her dresser, which, by the way, projected very close to the open window.

“Are you going to leave your jewel there?” whispered a voice in her ear as a burst of laughter rang out in response to one of her sallies.

Turning, with a simulation of round-eyed wonder, she met Miss Hughson’s earnest gaze with the careless rejoinder, “What’s the harm?” and went on with her story with all the reckless ease of a perfectly thoughtless nature.

Miss Hughson abandoned her protest.  How could she explain her reasons for it to one apparently uninitiated in the scandal associated with their especial clique.