"Hush!" said Mr. Bates.
The woman subsided into her apron.
"Whatever's taken her, she's trying to get home! She's trying——" she sobbed.
"Well, whatever's taken her, get that trunk out of here!" the Dalton butler snapped.
Was there anything else to do? Wilkins, having thought until his head ached, could not see it. If the girl had a friend among the help, it might be left with the friend; but the only woman of the household present had taken pains to look properly scandalized at each mention of Felice. Or if Mary hadn't cautioned him particularly against this Bates, he would have risked taking Bates aside and communicating the astounding truth.
But since things were as they were, and not as they might have been; since Bates was actually glaring at him now, and would, in another minute, be banging the trunk back to the street himself, there was really nothing left for Wilkins but to grip the wide handle and start slowly for the door again.
It was bad! Oh, it was very bad, with Mary in there and very likely stifling to death, but Wilkins shuffled slowly back to the taxicab with his burden, slowly and carefully put it aboard once more.
"What's wrong?" asked the driver.
"The party it was for had left!" said Wilkins.
"Where to?"