"Rather," said Sally. "Shawl and everything. Jolly, isn't it?"
"What an awful shame!" cried Adèle. "But who's taken them? Not the
Marats?"
"Must be," said Mrs. Featherstone. She nodded over her shoulder. "I've just been to the police about it, but you know how hopeless they are."
"If I can do anything," said Berry, "you know I'd only be too happy…"
"Thanks awfully," was the reply, "but to tell you the truth, I don't see what there is to be done. As far as I can make out, they left before Christmas, so they've got a pretty good start."
"I'm terribly sorry," said I. "Of course I never saw the goods, but, if they were anything like the things we bought, it's a cruel shame."
Mrs. Featherstone laughed.
"I do feel sore," she admitted. "The maddening part of it is, I meant to take the shawl home to show George, and then, in the rush at the last, I left it out." She turned to my sister. "And you know I trusted that couple implicitly."
"I know you did."
"The queer thing is, they seem to have suffered one solitary pang of remorse. Did I show you those Chinese mats I was so crazy about? Well, after they'd gone, I suppose, their hearts smote them, because they did the three up and sent them back."