“You certainly are a most extraordinary girl,” observed Mrs. Bristow, in a reflective manner. “What in the name of goodness could have put such thoughts into your head?”
“Common sense; that’s all, my dear. I am only using common sense in a matter which, to say the truth, requires a considerable amount of that useful commodity. To remain here, or anywhere else in this county, would be the worst of folly. Change your name, take quiet, respectable apartments at the west end of London, and make your life as happy as possible. You have suffered enough, and deserve to taste a little of the sweets of life. Do you see that?”
“Ah, I acknowledge the truth of your observations.”
“Very good. And now, first of all, let us make an examination of the little store. Lock the door, dear. We don’t want anybody prying into our secret—not even my aunt. In a case like this, it’s best to keep one’s own counsel.”
Mrs. Bristow rose suddenly from her seat, and crept softly towards the door, which she locked.
“Now for it,” said Bessie. “Now for the notes.”
She drew them forth, and placed them on the dressing-table.
The first upon which her eye lighted was a note for the sum of one thousand pounds. This was followed by many more for a like sum. In addition to these there were many for one hundred, two hundred, as also others for smaller and larger sums.
Reckoning the whole of them up they represented an amount exceeding fourteen thousand pounds.
No. 8.