“Oh, I see. Well, then, that’s all right. Go on ahead.”
“But I wish it wasn’t that centre-piece again. I’m always afraid of its being wanted.”
“Oh, it won’t be wanted,” said the footman, impatiently.
“If you could only have managed about that key.”
“Well, give me time. I say, that was a narrow squeak, when the old woman nearly caught us.”
“Yes, it was horrible,” said the butler, wiping his forehead. “Fancy her telling Jemmy, and him sending for us to come up in the lib’ry afore the lot of them!”
“Easy enough for him to send,” said the footman, with a grin, “but it would have taken a lot of pulling to get us there.”
“Yes, Orthur, my boy, the game would have been up.”
“And before we’d made our pile, old man. There, you want a glass of wine to pull you together. You mustn’t go and see our dear old relative looking like that.”
“No,” said Roach, brightening up; “that would not do, Orthur. The old woman did not find us out.”