Audrey sank into a chair, knowing profoundly that all was lost.
“It’s at Mrs. Spatt’s at Frinton,” replied Aguilar glibly. “Mistress lets her have that room to store some boat-gear in. I expected she’d ha’ been over before this to get it out. But the yachting season seems to start later and later every year these times.”
Audrey gazed at the man as at a miracle-worker.
“Well, I think that’s all,” said Mr. Hurley.
“No, it isn’t,” Audrey corrected him. “You’ve got all my keys in your pocket—except one.”
When the police had gone Audrey said to Aguilar in the hall:
“Aguilar, how on earth did you——”
But she was in such a state of emotion at the realisation of dangers affronted and past that she could not finish.
“I’m sorry I was so long answering the bell, m’m,” replied Aguilar strangely. “But I’d put my list slippers on—them as your father made me wear when I come into the house, mornings, to change the plants, and I thought it better to put my boots on again before I come.... Shall I put the keys back in the doors, madam?”
So saying he touched his front hair, after his manner, and took the keys and retired. Audrey was as full of fear as of gratitude. Aguilar daunted her.