He slipped back into the little room where the trunk still stood, and when the maid looked in, after tidying the bedroom next door, she found him apparently hard at work. He glanced up cheerily, to meet a very gloomy stare.
“It's going to be a long job, eh, monsieur?”
“Looks like it. By the way, I forgot to say something to madame. At what hour does she return?”
“Only just in time to dress for dinner. There is a great charity bazaar on at the Castle at which madame has promised to help. She gave us all tickets for the grounds.”
“Were you going, too? I heard that there were to be all sorts of amusements.”
“I was going, but, if you wish it, I can stay . . .?”
Hope shone in her face again. Perhaps the jaunt would yet come off.
“No! no!” protested Pointer in genuine horror. “I may be here for hours.”
A bank note was slipped into her hand. “Go and enjoy yourself, ma fille, and drink my health at lunch.”
Marie was in the seventh heaven, what with the chance to get off for the day after all, the twenty francs, and the compliment to her thirty years. Within a quarter of an hour a voiture, with Marie, her husband, the chef and Mrs. Clark's maid, drove off briskly; for, as Marie said, in what better hands could the villa be left than in that of a gentleman connected with madame's solicitors?