"From th' look of ye I made sure that th' money had turned up all right—ye were that comfortable and cosy! Who'd guess as nigh on a thousand pound's missing out of this house since last night!"
The heavy voice rolled over them brutally. Louis attempted to withstand Mr. Batchgrew's glare, but failed. He was sure of the absolute impregnability of his own position; but the clear memory of at least one humiliating and disastrous interview with Thomas Batchgrew in the past robbed Louis' eye of its composure. The circumstances under which he had left the councillor's employ some years ago were historic and unforgettable.
"I came in back way instead of front way," said Thomas Batchgrew, "because I thought I'd have a look at that scullery door. Kitchen's empty."
"What about the scullery door?" Louis lightly demanded.
Rachel murmured—
"I forgot to tell you; it was open when I came down in the middle of the night." And then she added: "Wide open."
"Upon my soul!" said Louis slowly, with marked constraint. "I really forget whether I looked at that door before I went to bed. I know I looked at all the others."
"I'd looked at it, anyway," said Rachel defiantly, gazing at the table.
"And when you found it open, miss," pursued Thomas Batchgrew, "what did ye do?"
"I shut it and locked it."