‘It was not there yesterday,’ answered Mrs. Belassis, the glittering look coming back into her eyes. ‘It was in the top right-hand drawer, where your writing-paper is stored.’
‘It must have been spirited there, then,’ laughed Tor, ‘for I left it in the left-hand bottom one, locked up, only the day before. Well, I will say good-night now. I think we understand each other; and I will give instructions about the butter to-morrow.’
It was in rather a peculiarly silent and constrained fashion that Mr. and Mrs. Belassis shook hands with their genial nephew and saw him depart.
Then Belassis wiped his forehead, and sat down heavily.
‘We only just got that done in time,’ he said, drawing a long breath, ‘Suppose he had found it before we had done our work?’
‘He would not have found it at all but for you,’ answered Mrs. Belassis, with cool contempt. ‘It would have been upstairs, where it ought to have been, but for your folly.’
‘Mine!’
‘Yes; you would bring it down; and now this has happened!’
‘What?’
‘He knows that I have been overhauling his private papers.’