“I agree with you, Mrs. Ferguson,” said Rowton, “and I shall take measures to have all this valuable plate and these jewels properly secured. This old safe, strong as it looks, is practically of no use at all. I have ordered another down from town. It will arrive to-morrow or the next day, accompanied by several experts, who will give you, Vickers, Mrs. Rowton, and myself, the cipher of how it is worked. No one will be able to open the safe who does not understand the cipher.”
“Then, sir,” said the housekeeper, “I beg to say at once, that no consideration on earth will make me learn it. I’d rather lose a thousand pounds than know how to open that safe.”
“Nonsense, woman,” said Rowton, the colour coming into his face as he spoke. “I think that will do now. Put the jewels back again, and the gold plate and the rest of the things. They have lain here for many a month, not to say years, and they may well stay here in safety for a few days longer. Now come along, Nance mine, I want to take you to the stables. Do you know anything about riding?”
“I used to ride when I was a girl, and when we lived in Harley Street,” said Nance.
“Ah! true,” he said, linking her arm in his and drawing her away from the pantry.
Vickers, the butler, was standing outside. He was an elderly man, stoutly built, with a good-natured and good-humoured face.
“Go into the pantry and help Mrs. Ferguson put away the plate,” said his master.
“Yes, sir,” replied the man.
He disappeared immediately, and Nancy and her husband went out of doors.
“I forgot,” he said, “that up to the age of—how old were you, Nance, when you left Harley Street?”