It was on the fourth day of Maud’s illness that she came out of that partial stupor of hers, compounded of drugs and the original shock, whatever had caused it. She fired both nurses, overpaying them extravagantly, had Hilda pin up her hair, and saw me for the first time. I was startled at the change in her.

For one thing she was thinner. The skin on her face and neck seemed loose, and her big, hearty voice had gone. But the real change was in her expression. She looked almost grim against her background of lace pillows.

“Come in, Pat,” she said. “I want to talk to you. Close the door and tell Hilda to keep out. Where’s Tony?”

“He’s got Roger somewhere outside.”

She closed her eyes, as if even the effort to talking tired her. I sat down and waited, and at last she put out her hand and I took it. “You’re a good girl, Pat,” she said. “I’ve had a lovely summer. I’ve been happy.”

“You’re going to have plenty more happy summers.”

“I’m not so sure. Not so sure,” she repeated. “Everything has to end sometime. Look here, Pat, I want to see Dwight Elliott as soon as I can, and I don’t want Tony to know. Can you manage it?”

“When do you want to see him?”

“Tomorrow if possible,” she said, almost feverishly. “It’s Saturday. I don’t suppose Tony will go to town.”

I thought for a minute. “He told me I ought to get out. He even recommended some golf. Perhaps he’ll condescend to take me on. I’m just bad enough to keep him cheerful.”

She nodded. “Fine,” she said. “Of course, the servants will have to know—unless we can fix it. Dwight might leave his car in the road and walk to the house. He could use the west door, if you left it open, and I can take care of Hilda up here.”

It was too pat. I knew she had already planned it just that way. Probably she saw my face, for she smiled faintly.

“You’re a smart girl, Pat,” she said. “It’s taken me two days to think it out, and you know it, don’t you? It’s not really serious, but I don’t want Tony to know. It would worry him. I want Dwight Elliott to draw a will for me. I ought to have done it long ago.”

I heard Tony whistling to Roger from somewhere close to the house, so I promised to call Mr. Elliott as soon as I had a chance and got out quickly. At the door, however, she called me back.

“Get me my jewel case, will you, Pat? My legs are still wobbly.”

I got the case from her dressing table and she opened it and took out a small key. It was the large leather case in which she kept the things she used every day. The rest—her emeralds, her long diamond chain, her two pearl ropes, and dozens of other things—were in a wall safe set in the panel of her bedroom and only discoverable if one knew where to find it. No, this is no story of robbery. The jewels were still there when everything was cleared up. But the police always harked back to them.