"La Masque is not at home, and I cannot admit you," was his sharp

salute.

"Then I shall just take the trouble of admitting myself," said Sir

Norman, shortly.

And without further ceremony, he pushed aside the skeleton and entered.

But that outraged servitor sprang in his path, indignant and amazed.

"No, sir; I cannot permit it. I do not know you; and it is against all

orders to admit strangers in La Masque's absence."

"Bah! you old simpleton!" remarked Sir Norman, losing his customary

respect for old age in his impatience, "I have La Masque's order for

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what I am about to do. Get along with you directly, will you? Show me to

her private room, and no nonsense!"

He tapped his sword-hilt significantly as he spoke, and that argument

proved irresistible. Grumbling, in low tones, the anatomy stalked

up-stairs; and the other followed, with very different feelings from

those with which he had mounted that staircase last. His guide paused in

the hall above, with his hand on the latch of a door.

"This is her private room, is it!" demanded Sir Norman.

"Yes."

"Just stand aside, then, and let me pass."

The room he entered was small, simply furnished, and seemed to answer

as bed-chamber and study, all in one. There was a writing-table under a

window, covered with books, and he glanced at them with some

curiosity. They were classics, Greek and Latin, and other little known

tongues--perhaps Sanscrit and Chaldaic, French belles lettres, novels,

and poetry, and a few rare old English books. There were no papers,

however, and those were what he was in search of; so spying a drawer in

the table, he pulled it hastily open. The eight that met his eyes fairly

dazzled him. It was full of jewels of incomparable beauty and value,

strewn as carelessly about as if they were valueless. The blaze of

gems at the midnight court seemed to him as nothing compared with the

Golconda, the Valley of Diamonds shooting forth sparks of rainbow-fire

before him now. Around one magnificent diamond necklace was entwined a

scrap of paper, on which was written: "The family jewels of the Montmorencis. To be given to my sisters when I

am dead."

That settled their destiny. All this blaze of diamonds, rubies, and

opals were Leoline's; and with the energetic rapidity characteristic

of our young friend that morning, he swept them out on the table, and

resumed his search for papers. No document was there to reward his

search, but the brief one twined round the necklace; and he was about

giving up in despair, when a small brass slide in one corner caught his

eye. Instantly he was at it, trying it every way, shoving it out and in,

and up and down, until at last it yielded to his touch, disclosing an

inner drawer, full of papers and parchments. One glance showed them to

be what he was in search of--proofs of Leoline and Hubert's identity,

with the will of the marquis, their father, and numerous other documents

relative to his wealth and estates. These precious manuscripts he rolled

together in a bundle, and placed carefully in his doublet, and then

seizing a beautifully-wrought brass casket, that stood beneath the

table, he swept the jewels in, secured it, and strapped it to his belt.

This brisk and important little affair being over, he arose to go, and

in turning, saw the skeleton porter standing in the door-way, looking on

in speechless dismay.




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