would be no interruptions until morning. It was the moment for which
she had waited ever since the hour when the General had sent her into
his wife's room for a miniature of Derry, which was locked in the safe.

The suite which had belonged to Mrs. Drake consisted of three rooms--a
sitting room, a bedroom and a sun-parlor which had been Derry's
nursery. Nothing had been changed since her death. Every day a maid
cleaned and dusted, and at certain seasons the clothes in the presses
were brushed and aired and put back again. In a little safe in the
wall were jewels, and the key was on the General's ring. He had given
the key to Hilda when he had sent her for the miniature. His fever had
been high, and he had not been quite himself. Even a nurse with a
finer sense of honor might have argued, however, that her patient must
be obeyed. So she knew now where his treasure was kept--behind a
Chinese scroll, which when rolled up revealed the panel which hid the
safe.

Hilda had never worn a jewel of value in her life. She possessed, it
is true, a few trinkets, a gold ring with her monogram engraved in it,
a string of Roman pearls, and a plain wrist watch. But such brilliance
as that which met her startled eyes when she had first looked into the
safe was beyond anything conceived by her rather limited imagination.

She opened the door between the rooms quietly, and went in, leaving a
crack that she might hear any movement on the part of her patient. She
crossed the sitting room in the dark. Reaching the bedroom she pulled
the chain of the lamp, then set a screen to hide any ray of light which
might escape.

The room was furnished with a feeling for delicate color--gold and