Much of R. Jones' substantial annual income was derived from
pondering over what he had heard.

In the room Joan was looking at Aline with the distended eyes of
one who sees visions or has inspirations. She got up. There are
occasions when one must speak standing.

"Then you mean to say that your father would really give five
thousand dollars to anyone who got this thing back for him?"

"I am sure he would. But who could do it?"

"I could," said Joan. "And what is more, I'm going to!"

Aline stared at her helplessly. In their schooldays, Joan had
always swept her off her feet. Then, she had always had the
feeling that with Joan nothing was impossible. Heroine worship,
like hero worship, dies hard. She looked at Joan now with the
stricken sensation of one who has inadvertently set powerful
machinery in motion.

"But, Joan!" It was all she could say.

"My dear child, it's perfectly simple. This earl of yours has
taken the thing off to his castle, like a brigand. You say you
are going down there on Friday for a visit. All you have to do is
to take me along with you, and sit back and watch me get busy."

"But, Joan!"