seemed to give out a many-coloured flash--a rapid Irislike effect, lost
in a moment. The impression made on Undershaw was that the drawer already
contained gems like those in the case--or jewels--or both.

Melrose seemed to have opened the drawer in a fit of abstraction during
which he had forgotten Undershaw's presence. But, if so, the act roused
him, and he looked round half angrily, half furtively at his visitor, as
he hastily relocked the drawer.

Then speaking with renewed arrogance, he said:

"Well, sir, I will see to these things. For to-night, I consent--for
to-night only, mind you--reserving entirely my liberty of action for
to-morrow."

Undershaw nodded, and they left the room together.

Dixon and Mrs. Dixon were both waiting in the passage outside, watching
for Melrose, and hanging on his aspect. To their amazement they were told
that a room was to be got ready for the nurses, a girl was to be fetched
to wait on them from the farm, and food was to be cooked.

The faces of both the old servants showed instant relief. Dixon went
off to the farm, and Mrs. Dixon flew to her kitchen. She was getting
old, and the thought of the extra work to be done oppressed her.
Nevertheless after these years of solitude, passed as it were in a
besieged camp--Threlfall and its inmates against the world--this new and
tardy contact with humanity, this momentary return to neighbourly, kindly
ways brought with it a strange sweetness. And when night fell, and a
subdued, scarcely perceptible murmur of life began to creep about the