"Never mind about that," Mary said soothingly, "I daresay it will all come right in the morning. But you should not have come here like this. You had better lie down on the couch in my dressing-room and go to sleep."
"But there was something that I wanted to do," the old woman whined. "I thought of a way of saving you, of saving everybody. And then it clean went out of my head."
Patience wrung her hands and the tears stood in her faded eyes. She appeared to be deeply distressed about something. She stopped suddenly, and stood alert and listening.
"Did you hear that?" she demanded. "They are in the kitchen. All three of them together! I saw them just now, but they did not see me. They were laughing together, and one of them had gold, which he was dividing with the rest. And they have come here to bring disgrace on this noble house. And there was I standing close by with a way to get rid of them in my head. . . . There was something that I wanted, and I couldn't find it. So I came to look, and I forget what it was. Such a beautiful plan, too, so very simple and yet perfect. My dearie, can't you help me to think what it was? If you can only help me we shall get rid of these men, and the trouble and disgrace will vanish, never to return. It isn't often that I get a good idea in this poor head of mine, and to forget it like that is cruel, cruel!"
Patience wept a little, and began to wring her hands again. Mary's old nurse had been in this state now for some years, though there were times, for longer or shorter periods, when she was in possession of all her faculties. She was not in the least dangerous; as a privileged old servant she had been allowed to wander from one house to the other at her pleasure. But Mary had never seen her so wild and excited before, and the thing troubled her.
"What do you know of our trouble?" she asked.
"Her ladyship told me. It was something to do with some money that Sir George owed to Mr. Mayfield, and which those men had come to get. And her ladyship could not help you, for Mr. Vincent has made her sell all her jewels already."
Mary fairly started. Was it possible that she was on the track of another family trouble, some new and black disgrace of which she had hitherto known nothing? It seemed hardly fair to take advantage of a weak-minded old woman in this, and yet--
"Who is this Mr. Vincent that you speak of?" Mary asked.
"Her ladyship told me. It was something to do with some money that Sir George owed to Mr. Mayfield, and which those men had come to get. And her ladyship could not help you, for Mr. Vincent has made her sell all her jewels already."