he got up hastily and left the dining-room, everybody, of course, wondering what could be wrong.
Our curiosity was very soon gratified, for the manager of the hotel, a tall, red-bearded Pole, who spoke seven languages fluently, came into the salle-à-manger, and announced in a loud voice:
"Ladies and gentlemen, mesdames et messieurs, a visitor has had her jewellery stolen from her room. I have summoned the police. I must, therefore, most reluctantly, and, with many regrets, ask everybody present to keep their seats until the officers arrive. The jewellery was seen by its owner half an hour ago, consequently I am compelled to think that someone in the hotel must be responsible for the loss."
He repeated this statement in French and Italian, and at the conclusion of his remarks every guest was looking round covertly at the occupiers of the other tables, wondering the while who among that gay, well-dressed party was the thief.
Ella and I were dining tête-à-tête, as Mr. Featherson had been away since lunch. I noticed that she went deadly pale as the manager talked, and I feared that she was
