When she had dragged herself upstairs, panting and resting on each step, she noticed without surprise that her room door was ajar. She had given strict orders that it should be kept closed, for the day was uncommonly chilly, and she wished the room to retain all the heat from the little fire. But the servants never remembered anything for ten minutes at a time.

Her kid shoes made no sound on the carpeted floor as she trod painfully down the hall, and, putting her hand on the doorknob, pushed open the door.

There was a flash of sound, a streak of movement from within. Theo gave a startled cry and hung onto the doorknob. Venus confronted her, backed up against the long gilt mirror before which she had been posturing. The girl's eyes were dilated with fear and hatred. She flung her head back defiantly, glaring at her mistress, but she had thrown her arms high across her chest and around her throat in a quick gesture of concealment.

It took a moment for Theo to grasp the meaning of this tableau. Then she gasped. Her eyes slowly focused on Venus, and then she suddenly understood. 'You've got my dress on!

My dress——' she whispered. Not that dress, the white gown embroidered in gold which she had worn on her birthday night at Richmond Hill! The beautiful gown that she loved so much that she had never worn it since, but had kept it wrapped in linen in her cedar box! She shut her eyes dizzily. Horrible—dark brown arms, a brown column of throat against the whiteness of that dress.

Nausea welled in her, her face contorted. 'Take it off, you slut!' she panted, her hands twisting and untwisting on the doorknob.

Venus did not move, her thin mouth curled, her cheeks glowed dusky scarlet.

Theo darted forward. 'What have you got on your chest—what arc you hiding?'

For a second the girl shrank, hugging her arms tighter about her throat. Then her chin went up, her lips parted in a malevolent smile, supremely insolent. She dropped her arms. Glittering and fiery on her dark bosom lay Aaron's diamond necklace.

Rage brought a rush of blood to Theo's head. If she could have killed, she would have. She beat Venus across the face with her small swollen fists, dragging the necklace off with such violence that the clasp tore through the brown flesh.

'You're vile—vile! I hate you—I hate you——'

Her voice cracked, the room swirled around her, and she fell forward on the floor, cradling the necklace against her check. The other servants found her lying there, crumpled and still, when they returned from the 'street' later. They were frightened and placed her gently on the bed, applying rude restoratives.