“Ball could not tell me what was saved.”
“The servants saved themselves,” said Lady Selina. “We saved the more valuable miniatures and my Chelsea. There is a pantechnicon van-load of furniture on the lawns.”
Grimshaw nodded, intent on his work. He pulled a broad bandage from his bag and made an impromptu sling, adding professionally:
“This must be dressed properly elsewhere. Where are you going, Lady Selina?”
“To my house,” said Goodrich.
“In five minutes,” murmured Lady Selina. Obviously she was in pain, but her eyes rested tranquilly upon Grimshaw. She appreciated the delicacy of his touch, and said so. Then she addressed Agatha coldly:
“The match-box, please.”
Agatha returned it, bursting out vehemently:
“I know what you think, my lady, but it’s simply impossible. I wish Sergeant Exton were here to defend himself. As for me,” she drew herself up with dignity, “I have been in attendance upon my aunt, as Martha Giles can testify.”
She glanced at the parson, using the word scornfully.