“How very anxious Sir Harry seems to be to get that new book, auntie,” drawled Annie, coming into the shop where Miss Clode was busily making an entry on her slate; “that makes twice he’s been here to-day.”
“Yes, my dear, he’s a great reader. But now, Annie, the time has come when I think I may take you into my confidence.”
“La, auntie, do you?”
“I do, and mind this, child: if ever you are foolish or weak, or do anything to betray it, you leave me directly, and that will be a very serious thing.”
Miss Slade’s jaw fell, and her mouth opened widely, as did her eyes.
“Ah, I see you understand, so now come here with me.”
Miss Slade obeyed, and followed her aunt into the middle room at the back, where, by means of a match dipped into a bottle of phosphorus. Miss Clode obtained a light and ignited a little roll of wax taper, and then, as her niece watched her with open eyes as they sat at the table, the lady took a small letter from her pocket and laid it with its sealed side uppermost on the table.
“Why, I saw Sir Harry Payne give you that letter this morning, auntie, when he came first.”
“Oh, you saw that, did you?” said Miss Clode.
“Yes, auntie, and I thought first he had given it to you to post, and then as you didn’t send me with it, I wondered why he had written to you.”