She saw Harry rise and lean over Mrs. Post, who only half rose from her chair. Deftly and with wonderful ease and swiftness, Townsend undid the clasp at her throat; but, for a moment, the embroidery from the collar seemed to have caught in her hair.
Barbara’s eyes grew wide and staring with surprise. As the coat slipped back from Mrs. Post’s shoulders, she saw a string like a tiny green serpent glide with magic smoothness and swiftness from her throat, and drop into the shrubbery back of her, or—into Harry Townsend’s hand?
What should she do? Announce that she had seen her string of emeralds disappear? Mrs. Post was talking and laughing gayly with her friend in the gold-colored dress. Harry was smiling quietly by them. Barbara rubbed her eyes. Surely she was mistaken. She had been dazzled by the wonderful sights she had seen that night. While she hesitated her opportunity passed.
Governor Post returned, saying to his wife: “Come, my dear, I have found Miss Stuart and a friend. They have a table out in the garden, and want us to join them.”
Mrs. Post again drew her wrap over her shoulders and turned to leave the conservatory. As she rose she saw Barbara.
“You there, my child?” she said in a friendly way. “Why didn’t you speak to me?”
Barbara could only answer her stupidly. “I was waiting for Hugh.”
When Hugh returned he found Barbara looking as pale as though she had just seen a ghost.
“What’s the matter?” he asked at once. “Are you ill?”
But Bab shook her head. “I’ll go find Miss Stuart,” the young man suggested.