"Such a thing has never happened before in my household," he kept repeating, as they sat at an uncomfortable meal next midday. "You are perfectly certain, Stella, that you haven't mislaid the necklace or dropped it anywhere?"
And each time he asked the question Stella replied wearily, "I am perfectly certain," until she felt tempted at last to declare that she had thrown away the pearls of deliberate intention. Her nerves were on edge, and she found it hard to control her temper. Mercifully, breakfast was now practically over.
"What about that man of yours, Flint? How long have you had him?"
"Five years, and he's certainly not the thief, if that's what you mean. He's a respectable, simple-minded old fellow with a long record of good service to his credit."
Robert grunted incredulously and lit a cheroot. "That ayah knows something," he suggested to his wife, "or why hasn't she turned up this morning?"
"She's ill," said Stella, "ill with fright, I should think."
"A guilty conscience more likely."
"I'm quite sure she had nothing to do with it."
Annoying as Champa had been, Stella was convinced of the woman's honesty.
"How can you be sure? Don't talk nonsense."