“He’s got it,” she exclaimed in an excited tone, replacing the lid.  “I’ll stake my life he stole it, the dirty cur!  He’s done it to get even with her.  She’ll be back in a little while, half distracted.  There is going to be trouble, plenty of it.  I’ll have Stephen here right away, and we’ll talk it over.  I can take care of her when she’s inside these rooms, but what if that man waylays her on the street and raises a row, and she goes back to him to smooth over things?  This has got to stop.  She won’t live the month out if he gets to hounding her again, and now he’s found out where she is, I shan’t have a moment’s peace.  What a hang-dog face he’s got on him!  And he’s a coward, too, or he wouldn’t have slunk out when I ordered him.  And he had it on him all the time!  I wonder what he’ll do with it.  Hold it over her, I expect; maybe take it to Rosenthal’s with some lie about her, so they will discharge her and she come back to him.

“Maybe—­” Here she stopped, and grew suddenly grave.  “Maybe he’ll—­ No, I don’t think he’d dare do that, but I’ve got to get Stephen, and I’ll go for him this minute.  Going’s quicker than a letter, and I’ll leave word down-stairs where I’m gone, so she’ll know when she comes in, and I’ll fix her coffee so she can get it.”

Hurrying into her own room, she began changing her dress, putting on her shoes, taking her night cloak and big, flare bonnet from the hook behind the door, talking to herself as she moved.

“It’s getting worse all the time, instead of getting better.  God knows what’s to become of her!  She’s most beat out now, and can’t stand much more; and she’s the best of the lot, except Mr. Felix, for she’s clean inside of her, and only her heart is to blame—­ and that father of hers, Lord Carnavon, with his dirty pride, and this scoundrel she’s wrecking her life on, and all the fine ladies at home who turned up their noses at her when half of them are twice as bad—­oh, I know ’em—­you can’t fool Martha Munger!  I’ve been too long with ’em.  And this poor child who—­ Oh!  I tell you this is a bad business, and it’s getting worse—­yes, it’s getting worse.  Rosenthal isn’t going to stand losing that piece of lace, without its costing somebody some money.  Stephen’s got to come and be around evenings while I’m out.  And I’ll go with her to Rosenthal’s and fetch her back home, so that man Dalton can’t frighten the life out of her.”

She put the coffee-pot where it would keep hot, and laid the cups and saucers ready for her mistress.  This done, she shut the door, and made her way down-stairs.  “Tell Mrs. Stanton when she comes in,” she said to the old woman who acted as janitor, “that I’ve gone to see my brother, and that I’ll be back just as soon as I can.”

All hopes which had cheered Lady Barbara on her way to Rosenthal’s, even when she climbed the long stairs and was ushered into Mangan’s small office, died out of her heart when she saw the manager’s face.  She had anticipated an outburst of anger, followed by a brutal tirade over her carelessness in wrapping up the mantilla with the other pieces and leaving it behind her the night before.  Instead, he came forward to meet her—­his lean, nervous body twitching with expectation.