“Better not ask,” she whispered back.
Gradually, as it were melting away, the little crowd broke up, dispersed. There was a horrible sense of mystery and guilt upon everybody. The members of the household almost felt as if they individually had been concerned in the robbery of Sir Robert.
Rhoda found herself left alone, and as she went back to her room, sick at heart, with the whispers of the household buzzing in her ears, she remembered that Sir Robert had not addressed one word to her since making the discovery of the loss of his picture.
Was it possible that he suspected her?
What had Lady Sarah whispered to him?
Rhoda, with her sickening, deadly, knowledge of the truth, knowledge almost as certain as if she had seen the faces and heard the voices of the thieves, felt that her brain reeled under the weight of the secret she had to bear.
Suddenly she was startled, as she went slowly up the stairs, by feeling a small, thin hand tucked into her arm.
“Nice business this, isn’t it?”
She started. It was Minnie Mallory who spoke, and in her light eyes Rhoda saw that she too made a shrewd guess at the truth.
“Hush!” said Rhoda.