“But I say, my boy,” whispered the butler, “it won’t do, you know. I’ve funked horribly for fear that they should ask for it.”
“Likely!” said the footman, scornfully. “It’s never been used but once.”
“More likely to be asked for to be put away with the rest in the vault. Jemmy’s safe to remember it some day.”
The footman was thoughtful as the butler locked up the iron closet.
“We ought to put away something not likely to be asked for, eh?”
“Yes,” said the butler, shaking his head sagely; “but what is there? We may have a dinner-party any day, and everything have to be shown.”
“Must be lots of things in the vault.”
“Course there is.”
“I say, ain’t it rum that they don’t send the things to their bankers?”
“Not a bit, when they’ve got a strong closet of their own, Orthur, my boy. I heard ’em talking about it one day at dinner, and Jemmy said something about their old bank breaking, and a lot of the family plate and jewels being lost. The rogues had been hard up for long enough and sold it.”