“Here’s the hundred pounds,” said Mr. Priestley when she returned, and stuffed a bundle of notes in her hand.
Laura attempted to thank him, but was cut short. “Yes, yes,” he said, much embarrassed. “That’s all right. And—and you’ll be back for lunch.”
Laura smiled at the indifferently concealed anxiety in his voice. “Yes, Uncle Matthew, I’ll be back; or soon after, at any rate. I’m not going to run away. I gave you my word, you know.”
“So you did,” said Mr. Priestley. “So you did. Well, good-bye, my dear girl. Get yourself lots of pretty things.”
“I will, I promise you. Oh, and I’ve had an idea. I’m going to buy a second-hand trunk and have all the things packed in that. Then it will look to Barker as if it was just my luggage turned up, you see. What do you think of that?”
“Excellent!” said the guileless Mr. Priestley with much admiration. “Excellent! Well—er—good-bye, Niece Laura.”
“Good-bye, Uncle Matthew,” demurely said Laura, who was not taking any hints to-day. She went.
Mr. Priestley found plenty to think about for the next fifty minutes.
Then, at ten minutes to twelve, he heard the front door-bell ring, and Barker’s footsteps down the passage a moment later. He wondered idly who had rung. It may be noted that Mr. Priestley did not start guiltily every time a bell rang, nor did he cringe-about the place in constant expectation of a heavy hand on his shoulder. It might have been a mouse he had shot instead of a man for all the guilty starts and cringing that Mr. Priestley performed.
While Mr. Priestley was not starting guiltily, Barker was opening the door. Confronting him on the landing was a tall, slim woman, exquisitely dressed, who smiled at him. The smile was of such peculiar sweetness that Barker broke another life-time’s record and smiled back.