Edith immediately glided from the room, but wondering what could have happened that madam should want her in her own apartments, when she supposed her to be behind the scenes.

Meantime, while the guests were being entertained with the play of which their hostess was the acknowledged author, a mysterious scene was being enacted within the mansion.

When the hour for the entertainment drew near, the house, as we know, had been emptied of its guests, until only the housekeeper, the butler, and the other servants remained as occupants.

The butler had been instructed to keep ward and watch below, while Mrs. Weld went upstairs, ostensibly to ascertain that everything was as it should be there, but in reality, to carry out a project of her own.

Seeking the maids, who, since they had no duties at that particular moment to occupy them, had gathered in the dressing-rooms, and were discussing the merits of the various costumes which they had seen, she remarked, in her kindly, good-natured way:

"Girls, I am sure you would like a peep at the play, and Mrs. G.o.ddard gave me permission to send you out, if you could be spared. I will look after everything up here, and you may go now, if you like, only be sure to hurry back the moment it is over, for you will then be needed again."

They were of course delighted with this privilege, but Mollie, who was an unusually considerate girl, and always willing to oblige others, inquired:

"Wouldn't you like to see the play, Mrs. Weld? I will stay and let you go."

"No, thank you, child. I had enough of such things years ago," the housekeeper returned, indifferently. "Run along, all of you, so as to be there when the curtain goes up."

And the girls, only too eager for the sport, needing no second bidding, sped away, thanking her heartily for the privilege.

Thus the upper portion of the mansion was entirely deserted, but for the housekeeper and the unsuspected presence of Emil Correlli, who was locked within his own room, awaiting from his sister the signal for his appearance upon the stage below.

The moment the housemaids were beyond hearing, Mrs. Weld gave utterance to a long sigh of relief, whipped off her blue spectacles, and with a swift, noise-less step, wholly unlike her usual waddling gait, hurried down the hall, and into Mrs. G.o.ddard's room, carefully closing and locking the door after her.

Proceeding to the dressing-room, a quick, searching glance showed her the object she was looking for--my lady's jewel-casket, standing wide open upon a small, marble-top table near a full-length mirror.

It had been rifled of most of its contents, madam herself having worn many of her jewels, while others had been loaned to the actors to embellish their costumes for the play.

"Ah! my task is made much easier than I expected," murmured the woman, as she peered curiously into the velvet-lined receptacle.

She saw only an empty tray, which she carefully removed, only to find another exactly like it underneath.

This also she took out, revealing the bottom of the box, covered with its velvet cushion, upon which there were indentations, to receive a full set of jewelry, necklace, bracelets, tiara, brooch and ear-rings.

The housekeeper's face was ghastly pale, or would have been but for the stain which gave her complexion its olive tinge, and she was trembling with excitement.

"She surely took that paper from this box," she muttered, a note of disappointment in her voice, as if she had expected to find what she sought upon removing the second tray.

"I wonder if this cushion can be removed?" she continued, as she tried to lift it from its place.

But it fitted so closely that she could not stir it.

Looking around the room for something to a.s.sist her in this effort, she espied a pair of scissors on the dressing-case.

Seizing them, she attempted to pry up the cushion with them.

It was not an easy thing to do, without defacing the velvet, but, at length, she succeeded in lifting one side, when she found no difficulty in removing the whole thing.

Her agitation increased as her glance fell upon several papers snugly packed in the bottom of the box.

"Ah! if it should prove to be something of no account to me!" she breathed, with trembling lips.

At last she straightened herself with sudden resolution, and putting her hand into the box drew forth the uppermost paper.

It was yellow with time, and so brittle that it cracked apart in one of the creases as she opened it; but paying no heed to this, she stepped to the dressing-case, and spread it out before her, while her eager eyes swept the mystic page from top to bottom.

Then a cry that ended in a great sob burst from her hueless lips.

"It is! it is!" she gasped, in voiceless agitation. "Ah, Heaven, thou art gracious to me at last! Now, I know why she would not surrender it to him--now I know what the condition of its ransom must have been!

"How long has she had it, I wonder? and when did she first learn of its existence?" she murmured. "Ah! but it does not matter--I have it at last--I, who dared not hope for its existence, believing it must have been destroyed, until the other day; and now"--throwing back her head with an air that was very expressive--"my vindication and triumph will be complete!"

With the greatest care, she refolded the paper, after which she impulsively pressed it to her lips; then, putting it away in her pocket, she turned back to the jewel-casket, and peered curiously into it once more.

"I wonder what other intrigues she has been guilty of?" she muttered, regarding its contents with a frown.

She laid her hand upon one of the papers, as if to remove it, then drew back.

"No," she said, "I will touch nothing else; I have what I came to seek, and have no right to meddle with what does not concern me. Let her keep her other vile secrets to herself; my victory is already complete."

She replaced the velvet cushion, pressing it hard down into its place.

She then restored the trays as she had found them, but did not close the casket, since she had found it open.

She retraced her steps into the boudoir, where, as she was pa.s.sing out, she trod upon something that attracted her attention.

She stooped to ascertain what it was, and discovered a gentleman's glove.

"Ah," she said, as she picked it up and examined it, "I should say it belongs to madam's brother! In that case, he must have returned this evening to attend the grand finale, although I am sure he was not at the dinner-table."

She dropped the glove upon the floor where she had found it, but there was a look of perplexity upon her face as she did so.

"It seems a little strange," she mused, "that the young man should have been away all this time; and if he was to return at all, I cannot understand why there should have been this air of secrecy about it. He has evidently been in this room to-night, but I am sure he has not been seen about the house."

She opened the door and pa.s.sed out into the hall, when she was startled to hear the voice of Mrs. G.o.ddard talking, in the hall below, with the butler.

Mrs. Weld quietly slipped across to the room opposite--the same one in which Edith and Mr. G.o.ddard had held their interview earlier in the evening--where, seating herself under a light, she caught up a book from the table, and pretended to be deeply absorbed in its contents.

A moment later, madam, having ascended the stairs, came hurrying down the hall, and saw her there.

She started.

It would never do for the woman to suspect the truth regarding what she was about to do.

No one must dream that Edith was not lending herself willingly to the last scene in the drama of the evening, and she expected to have some difficulty in persuading her to take the part.

There must be no possibility of any one hearing any objections that she might make, for, in that case, the charge of fraud could be brought and proved against her and her brother, after all was over.

But after the first flash of dismay, the cunning woman devised a scheme which would take the housekeeper out of her way, and leave the field clear for her operations.