“Yes, you can tell Cook,” conceded Roger gravely, knowing the paramount necessity of permitting a safety-valve. “But you’ll be responsible for it going no further. Promise?”
“Oo, yes, sir! I promise.”
“Well, cut up and get me a pair of her shoes, then.”
The girl needed no second invitation. She cut.
In less than a minute she was back again. “Here you are, sir. I put a bit of newspaper round them, so as nobody could see what you’re carrying. But you’ll bring them back, won’t you, sir?”
“Oh, yes; some time this afternoon. In fact, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll bring them to the back-door. How about that?”
“Yes, that would be better, sir. Thank you.”
“And if anybody else wants to know what I came for, say I’m a reporter for the Courier wanting to see Mrs. Russell; that’ll do as well as anything else. Here!”
A ten-shilling note changed hands, and Roger turned to go. A stifled sound from the girl caused him to look round.
“Yes?” he said enquiringly.