were so extremely valuable I didn't dare have them reset in screws. So I had my ears pierced, and the wounds have been a little slow in healing. Tonight was the first time I felt I dared take out the guard-rings and try the emeralds on. I'd brought them from the safe and put them on my dresser; then as I raised my hands to disengage the guard-ring from my left ear I felt a draft of chilly air upon my shoulders, something seemed to brush past me—it was like the passage of a bird in flight, or perhaps that of an invisible missile—and next instant the velvet case in which the emeralds rested disappeared."
"Eh, disappeared, Madame?" de Grandin echoed.
"Yes, that's the only way that I can put it; I didn't actually see them go. The chill and movement at my back startled me, and I turned round. There was nothing there, of course, but when I turned back to my bureau they were gone."
"Did you look for them?" I asked with fatuous practicality.
"Of course, everywhere. But I knew it was no use. They went the same way that the pearls did—I recognized that sudden chill, that feeling as if something—something evil —hovered at my shoulder, then the (illegible text) and the disappearance. And," she added ⟨with⟩ a shuddering sigh, "those emeralds went to the same place the pearls went, too!”
"Thank Heaven you'd not put them in your ears!" broke in her husband. "You remember how she bruised your throat that night she snatched the pearls"
"Oh, let her have them!" Agnes cried. "I don't want the vain things, Frazier. If hoarding jewelry like a jackdaw gives her restless spirit peace, let her have them. She can have"
"Excuse me, if you please, Madame," de Grandin interrupted in a soft and toneless voice. "Monsieur Taviton has placed your case with me, and I say she shall not have anything. Neither your jewelry, your husband, your peace of mind—corbleu, she shall not have so much as one small grave to call her own!"
"But that’s inhuman!"
The Frenchman turned a fixed, unwinking stare on her a moment; then, "Madame," he answered levelly, "that which pursues you with the threat of ruined happiness also lacks humanity."
"Perhaps you're right," said Agnes. "She stole Frazier from me; now she takes the jewels, not because she has a use for them, but because she seems determined to take everything I have. Please, Doctor de Grandin, please make sure she doesn't take my husband, whatever else she takes."
I had a momentary feeling of uncertainty. Were these three sane and grown-up people whom I listened to, these men and woman who talked of a dead woman's stealing jewelry, discussing what she might have and what she might not take, or were they children playing gruesome make-believe or inmates of some psychopathic ward in some mysterious way brought to my study?
"Don't you think we'd better have a glass of sherry and some biscuit?" I suggested, determined to negotiate the conversation back to sanity.
De Grandin sipped his sherry thoughtfully, taking tiny bites of biscuit in between the drinks, more for the sake of appearance than from any wish for food. At length: "Where are the pearls which were abstracted from Madame your wife's throat?" he asked Taviton.
"I put them in the safe deposit vault," the other answered. "They're still there, unless"
"Quite so, Monsieur, one understands. It is highly probable they are still there, for these prankish tricks Madame la Revenante is fond of playing seem con-
