her gorgeous lawn. Mr. Minot had fallen again to the elder girl from Omaha, and blithely for her he was displaying his Broadway ignorance of horticulture. Suddenly out of the night came a scream. Instantly when he heard it, Mr. Minot knew who had uttered it.
Unceremoniously he parted from the Omaha beauty and sped over the lawn. But quick as he was, Lord Harrowby was quicker. For when Minot came up, he saw Harrowby bending over Miss Meyrick, who sat upon a wicker bench.
"Cynthia—what is it?" Harrowby was saying.
Cynthia Meyrick felt wildly of her shining hair.
"Your necklace," she gasped. "Chain Lightning's Collar. He took it! He took it!"
"Who?"
"I don't know. A man!"
"A man!" Reverent repetition by feminine voices out of the excited group.
"He leaped out at me there—by that tree—pinioned my arms—snatched the necklace. I couldn't see his face. It happened in the shadow."
