Delighted to have gained her attention, the dog barked.
"Oh, you mustn't bark, darling," she cautioned, muzzling his nose with her hand. "You'll wake Mr. Heath. Tell Missy what the trouble is. Do you smell a mousie under there?"
For answer the dog wagged his tail.
"I don't believe it," Sylvia demurred. "You're only bluffing. Between you and Winkie-Wee there isn't a mouse about the place. Still, you seem terribly sure something is wrong. Well, to convince you, I'll take up the brick."
Fetching from the pantry a steel fork, she inserted the prongs in the crack and pried the offending brick out of its hole.
Instantly the dog snatched from the space beneath a handkerchief containing a small, hard object.
Sylvia chased after him.
"Bring it here, Hal! That's a good dog! Bring it to Missy."
The setter came fawning to her side and unwillingly dropped his prize at her feet.
As it fell to the ground, out rolled such a glory of jewels the girl could scarcely believe her eyes.