"I've just managed it at the last moment. I go back the day after to-morrow. One ball a year is not much. Miss Chandos," turning to Verona, "I hope you will honour me with a waltz?"
"Yes, with pleasure," she replied.
"Number seven?"
"Very well," she acquiesced.
"And what do you say to the fag end of this one? just to try the floor."
Verona rose, took his arm, and descended into the vortex and found to her great relief that Brian Salwey, in spite of but one ball a year, danced delightfully well. As she presently stood aside a little out of breath, he said:
"I've been trying to trace your jewels," and he glanced at her beautiful diamonds; "I see you had some left."
"Yes," she assented, "these I had sewn inside the sleeve of one of my dresses—they are the most valuable of all."
"I believe I am on the track of the others," he said, "but the necklace—has gone to Delhi."
"From whence I feel convinced it will never come back!" she said; "well, it cannot be helped. After all, it would not be much use to me now."