“London.”
“Oh! That’s all right then. I am relieved. I thought perhaps you waited to come to my house. You won’t get to London, because you haven’t any money.”
“Oh, yes, I have. I’ve got a hundred pounds.”
“Where?”
“Remember, you’ve sworn.... Here!” she cried suddenly, and drawing her hand from behind her back she most sensationally displayed a crushed roll of bank-notes.
“And who did you get those from?”
“I didn’t get them from anybody. I got them out of father’s safe. They’re his reserve. He keeps them right at the back of the left-hand drawer, and he’s so sure they’re there that he never looks for them. He thinks he’s a perfect model, but really he’s careless. There’s a duplicate key to the safe, you know, and he leaves it with a lot of other keys loose in his desk. I expect he thought nobody would ever dream of guessing it was a key of the safe. I know he never looked at this roll, because I’ve been opening the safe every day for weeks past, and the roll was always the same. In fact, it was dusty. Then to-day I decided to take it, and here you are! He finished himself off yesterday, so far as I’m concerned, with the business about the punt.”
“But do you know you’re a thief, Audrey?” breathed Miss Ingate, extremely embarrassed, and for once somewhat staggered by the vagaries of human nature.
“You seem to forget, Miss Ingate,” said Audrey solemnly, “that Cousin Caroline left me a legacy of two hundred pounds last year, and that I’ve never seen a penny of it. Father absolutely declined to let me have the tiniest bit of it. Well, I’ve taken half. He can keep the other half for his trouble.”
Miss Ingate’s mouth stood open, and her eyes seemed startled.