"Oh, no. He is returning directly. It seems wiser for him to go back in the boat and leave the car for me to use here. Nevertheless, I greatly appreciate your kindness."
"Mrs. Heath is anxious," put in Currier. "She begged me to come home as soon as possible that she might know how Mr. Heath was. Naturally she has been much worried."
"There, there, Currier—that will do," broke in Stanley Heath, flushing. "And now, since Mrs. Howe is here and is in our secret, I may as well break to you something I have not yet had the chance to tell you. Part of the mission on which you came cannot be accomplished. You cannot take the gems back with you to New York. A calamity has befallen them."
"A calamity, sir?"
The small, grey-haired man looked from Stanley Heath to Marcia, and for the first time, his imperturbable countenance betrayed mingled amazement and distress. Presently, however, he had it under control and as if he had donned a mask, it became as expressionless as the sphinx while he waited for the rest of the story.
"Mrs. Howe helped me conceal the jewels downstairs in a hiding-place under the kitchen floor," continued Stanley Heath. "When she went to get them, they were gone."
"You don't tell me so, sir!"
"It is all very mysterious," broke in Marcia, taking up the tale. "I cannot in any way account for their disappearance and am much distressed."
"Naturally so, madam—naturally so," responded Currier politely. "And you have searched the place carefully? Sometimes such things get misplaced."
"I've looked everywhere. They are not there."