“Oh, yes, it is ‘Hush’ this time—till George comes home,” retorted Minnie as she nodded and left her to go to her own room.
Rhoda went back to hers in a sort of dream. She scarcely slept that night, and the next day she was pale, haggard, and miserable.
Nobody talked of anything but the robbery. Jack professed his intention of going to Scotland Yard and giving information to the police about the theft.
“Such a thing as a valuable picture,” said he, “can easily be traced when the thieves offer it for sale.”
Sir Robert seemed to acquiesce in this proposal, and soon after breakfast Jack Rotherfield’s motor-car came round to take him up to town.
Rhoda was watching the packing of the luggage inside the car with curious eyes. Presently a gun-case was brought out of the house by a footman, who went indoors again when he had stowed it away.
With flushed cheeks and brilliant eyes Rhoda walked deliberately down the two broad stone steps, and took the gun-case out of the motor-car.
As she did so, she looked up, and her eyes met those of Jack Rotherfield, who was standing on the other side of the car.
“What are you doing?” said he. “That’s my gun-case.”
Rhoda, now as pale as a moment before she had been red, looked at him steadily.