She brushed it aside impatiently. “What can it signify? My lord, Mr. Cheviot left Highnoons this afternoon while I was sleeping and he took with him the clock from the bookroom!”
“Ah, did he so?” he said, apparently rather amused.
“You do not understand! I did not think of it myself until Becky told me that he had taken the clock upon the pretext of having it mended for me! My lord, I believe that paper to have been concealed in it! He knew it, and now he has it!”
“No, no, Mrs. Cheviot, he has not got it, I assure you!” he said soothingly. “Do let me take your pelisse!”
She struck her hands together in exasperation. “You must attend to me, my lord! You have not realized—how should you indeed?—that I had my hands on that clock when I was struck down! And—”
“I did realize it, Mrs. Cheviot. If you remember, you told us so when you recovered consciousness. I am afraid it is you who have not attended to me. Did I not tell you that you had no need to feel any further alarm? I think you deserve that I should be a little angry with you for running the risk of injuring your health in this way.”
She gazed up at him in astonishment. “You realized it! But you did not think what it might mean?”
“On the contrary, it occurred to me that that might be the answer, and when you had gone up to your room I looked to see whether one of my cousin’s keys might not fit that lock. It was so, and I found that my suspicions were correct. I removed the papers, and they are now safely in my possession.”
She was bereft of speech and could only stare at him in gathering indignation. Twice her lips parted and twice she closed them again before she could regain sufficient command over herself to say, “You removed the papers! But this is beyond everything! I dare say you thought I should not be interested in such a trifling piece of news!”
“No, but—”