With something of the air of a conjurer who, to amuse the children, produces two rabbits and the grand old flag from inside a borrowed top-hat, Mullett unclasped his fingers.
"Your necklace, sir."
George's hand flew to his pocket and came away empty.
"Good heavens! How...?"
"My little girl," explained Mullett with a proud and tender look in his eyes. "She snitched it off you, sir, as we were going out. I was able, however, to persuade her to give it up again. I reminded her that we had put all that sort of thing behind us now. I asked her how she could expect to be happy on our duck-farm if she had a thing like that on her mind, and she saw it almost at once. She's a very reasonable girl, sir, when tactfully approached by the voice of love."
George drew a deep breath. He replaced the necklace in his inside breast-pocket, buttoned his coat and drew away a step or two.
"Are you going to let that woman loose on a duck-farm, Mullett?"
"Yes, sir. We are taking a little place in the neighbourhood of Speonk."
"She'll have the tail-feathers off every bird on the premises before the end of the first week."
Mullett bowed his appreciation of the compliment.