"No hurry about that. Leave it in the library. We don't care what becomes of the old bag now." Anton walked slowly toward the door, biting at his mustache.
"All right, boy."
He stepped out on the lawn, but turned back. "Oh! About Henderson! If it's all the same to you——"
"I know what you want," she anticipated. "I'll talk to you before I telephone him again, and—buck up, boy, I'll give him reports after this that'll boost your game. See?"
"Good girl!" And with a wave of his hand, the chauffeur disappeared.
Hester drew a long sigh of relief. Talk about excitement! And now what should she do with the money? It was out of the question to leave five thousand pounds in the bottom of a flower pot without even a purse to protect it. The golf bag was better than that, but—
She started at the sound of voices and footsteps in the library. Presently there came a rattling at the door and the turning of a key in the lock and a moment later the Reverend Horatio Merle appeared, followed by Ferdinand Spooner, secretary of the Progressive Mothers' Society.
"My dear Mr. Spooner, I'm extremely sorry. I thought they might be in the conservatory," said the curate, peering about. "Ah, my child!" he beamed, as he saw Hester, who, on the instant, had caught up the golf bag.
"Mr. Robert Baxter told me to put this bag away," the girl explained. "It belongs to Miss Thompson."
"Quite so," approved Mr. Merle. "And would you see if you can find the Countess Clendennin and Mr. Fitz-Brown. Say to them that Mr. Spooner has called."