"How could I have been so careless?" she cries, in poignant grief and dismay. "I should have gone straight to the house and shown Sir Harry my important discovery. But I remember every word of it just as it was written. Perhaps that will do as well. I will go and seek Sir Harry at once and tell him all."
Carelessly donning her wide-brimmed sun-hat she leaves the spot, little dreaming that she has been ruthlessly robbed of her treasure.
"Are you sure—quite sure that you have not dreamed the whole thing, Lady Vera?" Sir Harry Clive asks her, incredulously, when she told him her story.
The sensitive color mantles her delicate cheek.
"I am perfectly certain of what I have stated," she answers. "It was only after I had found the entry that I fell asleep a few delicious moments. It must have been the greatness of the reaction from suspense and grief to success and joy that caused my sudden, overwhelming drowsiness. I remember that I kissed the precious words a few minutes before I fell asleep. I read them over and over. Listen, Sir Harry, I am quite sure I can repeat every word with perfect accuracy now."
Slowly she repeats:
"Oct. 30th, 188—. Mem. To-day presented Joel McPherson, sexton at Glenwood Cemetery, Washington, D. C., with a check for a thousand dollars, as a slight testimonial of my undying gratitude for his skill and co-operation with me in the act by which my darling daughter, Vera, was restored to me from the grave itself, in which she had been immured alive."
As she slowly utters the words, Sir Harry jots them down in his own memorandum-book. There is a puzzled look on his broad, fair, intelligent brow.
"If only you had not fallen asleep," he says, regretfully. "But, dear Lady Vera, this sounds so much like the vagaries of sleep. It seems real to you, I know, but I am almost afraid to pin my faith on it."
"The lake is not deep; I will send one of the servants to dive for the book. I am sure he will find it. Then I shall convince you of my credibility," she answers, quietly, as she leaves the room.