As to Uncle Francis, half-pleased with this striking story for his next book, he could only repeat:—"But it's impossible, you know. Quite impossible."
And then it was air explained in the most absurdly obvious way. Little Concha, back from marketing at Ancon, hurried to her mistress's room and brought the solution of the mystery with her. Childishly naive, she explained that, on going out onto the beach in the morning, she had seen something glitter in the sand. She picked the object up, and found that it was a bracelet, which she recognized as one worn by her mistress on the previous day. Thinking that it had been lost from the balcony, and rushing to give Maria-Teresa a pleasant surprise, she had put it on her arm again without waking her. A huge burst of laughter from them all greeted the end of her simple story and Concha, terribly vexed, ran out of the room.
"It seems to me we are all getting a little mad," said the Marquis.
"That infernal bracelet is enough to drive one to a lunatic asylum," added Dick. "We must get rid of it at all costs."
"No! If it ever came back a second time, I could not answer for my reason." And Maria-Teresa joined nervously in the laughter. "What we all need," she added, "is a change of air, of
