And with those soft barely heard words, there was an immediate sensation of tremor in the atmosphere of the room, and the green beetles suddenly wavered in the air like a desert mirage, and disappeared.

There was no trace of them. Everyone was still batting away at their clothing in horrific alarm, and squashing non-existent things on the floor, and Mr. Rushworth attempted to chew a beetle in his teeth that was no longer there.

Mr. Yates gave a final choke, then cleared his throat. Eyes popping from effort, still red as a beet, he stood up straight and made a short embarrassed bow to the company.

“What in all creation was that?” said Sir Thomas, recovering himself after a long terrible silence. “Those insects! A whole army! I have never seen anything like it, not even in Antigua! They came forth out of you, Mr. Yates! Are you—well?”

“Ahem,” replied Yates. “I appear to be fine, and I assure you, Sir Thomas, I am quite perplexed myself as to what had just happened.”

“Not as much as I am,” muttered Tom under his breath, scratching his head and straightening the corners of his jacket lapels. “Edmund? Have you any notion? Is it—unholy?”

“Indeed, I have no doubt! It’s the Curse,” whispered back his brother.

“But I thought that was nonsense,” Tom retorted.

“Well, and what do you think now?”

Fanny meanwhile sat down once again and turned to Lord Eastwind, “My Lord,” she said. “Who are you?”

“Miss Price,” he replied, “I am your distraction.”

All talk of acting and theatre was indeed forgotten. After making certain that Mr. Yates was indeed in the best of health, and then giving instructions to Baddeley to look into the vermin insect infestation on the estate, Sir Thomas changed the subject to a more pleasant one.

“Mr. and Miss Crawford were mentioned in my last letters from Mansfield. Do you find them agreeable acquaintance?”

Tom, still reeling somewhat from the unbelievable scarab attack, was the only one at all ready with an answer, but he being entirely without particular regard for either, jealousy or love, could speak very handsomely of both. “Mr. Crawford was a most pleasant, gentleman-like man; his sister a sweet, pretty, elegant, lively girl.”

Who has very sharp teeth, Fanny wanted to say, but kept silent, naturally.

But Mr. Rushworth could be silent no longer. “I do not say he is not gentleman-like, considering; but you should tell your father he is not above five feet eight, or he will be expecting a well-looking man. Grrr!”

Sir Thomas did not quite understand this, nor did he expect the growl (he had also luckily missed the display of voracious scarab chewing during moments of earlier mayhem) and looked with some surprise at the speaker.