Vance deserted the Manor an hour later, just as the noonday siren shrilled overhead, the surrounding hills catching the note and throwing the echo back and forth much longer than the original blast warranted. Carrington Rexon had long taken a boyish delight in retaining this outmoded signal for his workmen. He admitted it served no purpose, but it amused him to continue to use it.

    The early winter dusk had begun to fall when Vance returned.

    "Been snoopin' and talkin' round the estate," he told Carrington Rexon, settling himself comfortably before the fire. "Much needed activity. Hope you don't mind."

    Rexon's laugh was mirthless. "I only hope your time wasn't wasted."

    "No. Not wasted. I'll be frank. You want it, I know."

    Rexon nodded stiffly.

    "Things not happy," summarized Vance. "Meanness at work. And jealousies. Nothing overt. Just undercurrents. They could erupt, however. Gunthar's hard on the men. That doesn't help...Hear you've been planning to replace him as overseer. Wallen mentioned. Any truth in that?"

    "Frankly, yes. But I was in no hurry."

    "Lief Wallen wanted to marry Ella. Both father and daughter protested. Friction—scenes. Not nice. Much bitterness. Source of general resentment of estate workers toward Miss Ella. Think she considers herself superior to the rest of them because she's Miss Joan's companion. Only Old Jed defends her. They answer he has delusions and a soft spot for the color green. Implication bein' the presence of the emeralds has affected him. Everyone adding fuel to a smoulderin' fire and waiting for a flareup."

    Rexon chuckled. "And perhaps you think, Vance, that I, too, am affected with the rest."

    Vance made a deprecating motion. "By the by, yours is the only key to the Gem Room, what?"

    "Good Heavens, yes! Special key and special lock. And a steel door."

    "Been in the room today?"

    "Oh, yes. Everything's quite in order."

    Vance changed the subject. "Tell me about your housekeeper."

    "Marcia Bruce? Solid as rock."

    "Yes. I believe you. Honest, but hysterical."

    Rexon chuckled again. "You've noticed much...But she adores Joan—cares for her like a mother when Ella Gunthar is off duty. Basically, Bruce is a fine woman. Quayne agrees. There's a fellow-feeling between those two. She was superintendent of nurses in a hospital once. Quayne's a worthy man, too. I'm glad to see that friendship developing."

    "Ah!" Vance smiled. "I perceive Squire Rexon is sentimental."

    "The human heart desires happiness for others as well as for oneself." Rexon was serious now. "What else did you learn, Vance? Anything pertaining to Lief Wallen's death?"

    Vance shook his head. "Solution may come through irrelevancies. Later. I've only begun." Then he went out to the drawing room.

    Bassett sat at the table near the veranda door where we first met him. He had just reached up and caught Ella Gunthar's arm as she passed. He was smirking up at her unpleasantly. She drew away from him. Bassett let her go. "Haughty, aren't we?" His eyes followed her with a sardonic leer as she returned to Miss Joan.

    Vance strolled up. "Not skiing today, Mr. Bassett? Thought the whole jolly crowd was up on the Winewood trails."

    "I slept too late and missed the party...Pretty blond thing, that Ella Gunthar." His eyes drifted back to the veranda. "Unusually attractive for a servant."

    Vance's eyes narrowed, hard as steel, and drew Bassett's gaze. "We're all servants. Some to our fellow men. Some to our vices. Think that over." He went out to the veranda.

    Lieutenant O'Leary was just coming up the steps at the side entrance.

    "Doctor Quayne's doing the autopsy now," he announced. "Inquest tomorrow at noon. You'll have to attend, I'm afraid, sir. I'll pick you up."

    "Any complications ahead?" asked Vance.

    "No. I've soft-pedaled everything. John Brander, our coroner, is a good man. He likes Rexon. And I've explained the situation. He won't ask embarrassing questions."

    "Accident verdict, maybe?"

    "I hope so, sir. Brander understands. It'll give us time."

    "A pleasure to work with you, Lieutenant."

    O'Leary went inside to see Rexon, and Vance strode to where Joan and Ella Gunthar were sitting.

    A noisy group of guests, returning from their skiing expedition, came clattering up the terrace, passed us with cheery greetings, and continued upstairs. Carlotta Naesmith and Stanley Sydes remained on the veranda and joined us. Ella Gunthar was looking about anxiously. "It's really no use, Ella," Miss Naesmith told her satirically. "Dick's gone daffy over Sally Alexander."

    "I don't believe it!"

    Miss Naesmith's mouth twisted in a cruel smile. "Does it hurt, Ella?"

    "Carlotta! Cat!" There was no mirth in Sydes' reprimand.

    "How do you feel today, Joan?" Miss Naesmith's mood changed as the girl smiled up sweetly. "And you, too, Mr. Vance. Why didn't you join the skiing party? It was glorious. At least ten inches of powder over a deep base."

    "Isn't there enough snow already in these locks of mine?"

    "And most becoming, Sir Galahad!" She turned and stroked Sydes' temple. "Wonder if Stan'll be handsome when he gets grey."

    "I promise you, Goddess," declared Sydes, "I'll be unutterably fascinating." He leaned over her. "And now, for the last time:—"

    "I always get seasick. I'll seek my treasure nearer home."

    "Maybe I will too, if you spurn my invitation." Sydes' tone was fretful and aggressive.

    "What do you think this wild man wants, Joan?" Miss Naesmith explained banteringly. "He insists I sail with him to Cocos Island and go diving for the treasure of the Mary Dear in Wafer Bay."

    "Oh, that would be wonderful!" There pathetic longing in Joan Rexon's voice.

    "You dear, sweet child." The older girl's tone softened. Then she went upstairs, and Sydes followed.

    A while later Marcia Bruce came out. "You may run along home, Ella. I'll take our darling in charge."

    Vance rose.

    "And I'll see Miss Ella home."

    I knew he had great compassion for the girl who had no part in the gay sophisticated life about her. And I knew why he wished to walk with her to her father's cottage. He would strive to cheer and amuse her, so that the sting of Miss Naesmith's words might be forgot.