He turned with a movement of alarm. "What?"
"If there's any trouble and it comes to a show down," she answered in a cold, even tone, "just remember that you're in this thing as deep as I am. You told that locker woman that Mrs. Baxter sent you for the golf bag, all those ladies heard it, and they saw you take the bag!"
"That's all right," he answered carelessly. "There won't be any trouble, if you do what I say."
"Go ahead, take the purse, but, remember, boy, if you wait one minute at the garage before dividing that money," she leaned close to him, and her black eyes blazed so fiercely that he started in alarm, "if you wait one minute, or try any flimflam game on me, Mr. Anton, you'll be sorry for it. That's all."
At this moment, just as Anton was about to brave her objections and transfer the purse from the bag to his pocket, the course of events was changed by the appearance of a barefooted small boy, who emerged unexpectedly from the woods and stood staring at them with a sort of dull impudence.
"That settles it," muttered the exasperated chauffeur. "We'll wait till we get to the garage." Then, stepping out, he cranked up the machine, and in a moment they were off at top speed.
Five minutes later they were back at Ipping House, and, as they passed the lodge, An Petronia called out shrilly to Anton that Mr. Robert Baxter was looking for him.
"I told you," frowned the chauffeur.
"Don't worry, boy. Get busy," urged Hester, as they stopped at the garage.
Leaving the car, they quickly entered the low building and closed the door behind them. Anton carried the golf bag, and, without further parley, laid it down on a work bench, and, reaching in his arm, drew forth the purse.