“My old friend took great precautions against that,” said Mr Girtle. “As you will see, it was impossible for any one to have stolen the valuables and notes.”
“But ought not this money to have been banked?”
“Of course—or invested. I have told him so, often; but he used to say he preferred to keep it as it was. He had plenty for his wants and charities. Your uncle was an eccentric man, Mr Capel; there is no denying that.”
“Eccentric!” cried Artis. “Mad. Well, I give you all warning. I shall take action, and throw it into chancery.”
He walked to the end of the room, and Paul Capel looked after him uneasily as he saw Katrine follow.
“You foolish boy!” she whispered; “am not I as badly used as you? Be patient. Wait.”
“What do you mean?” he whispered, hastily.
She looked full in his eyes, and he tried to read the mystery in their depths, but without avail.
“Why don’t you speak?” he cried.
“Some things are better left unspoken,” she replied. “Don’t be rash.”