The door opened and closed upon Unwin.
“Lock the door on him, you—you Idiot!” they heard Lady Charlotte shout—too late.
The hated and dreaded visage of Oswald appeared looking round the corner of the door into the great lady’s bedroom. Her hat had been flung aside, she was tying on an unconvincing night cap over her great blond travelling wig; her hastily assumed nightgown betrayed the agate brooch at her neck.
“How dare you, sir!” she cried at the sight of him.
“You’re not ill. You’re going to cut off to Italy this afternoon. What have you done to my Wards?”
“A lady’s sick room! Sacred, Sir! Have you no sense of decency?”
“Is it measles, Auntie?”
“Go away!”
“I daren’t. If I leave you alone in this country for a year or two you’re bound to get into trouble. What am I to do with you?”
“Unbecoming intrusion!”