“Do you really wish to leave us?” said Nance. She forgot at that moment all about Crossley; and Jacob was nothing more to her than an ordinary valuable and good servant. “You seem to suit the place very well,” she continued. “I am sorry you have to go.”
“I don’t want to go at all, ma’am. I am coming back again; but I must go to town to-day.”
“Well, why not? I daresay you can be spared.”
“Mrs. Ferguson says not, ma’am. Now the fact is,”—here Jacob lowered his voice, and his eyes sought the ground—“it is Crossley; I have had a letter from him.”
“Crossley the detective?” cried Nance, with a start.
“Yes, ma’am; perhaps you won’t speak so loud. I have had a cipher from Crossley this morning—in answer to one of mine, of course. You know, Mrs. Rowton, why I am here?”
“Nance, what is keeping you?” called her husband.
“I cannot stay with you now, Jacob,” said Nance, colouring and looking confused. “Coming, Adrian. Of course, if you want to go to town,” she continued, glancing almost nervously at the footman, “you must do so. Do not stay away longer than you can help. Tell Mrs. Ferguson I have given you leave.”
“Thank you, ma’am, I am extremely obliged,” answered Jacob.
He left the conservatory, walking in his deliberate fashion through the drawing-room. In the lobby outside he came face to face with Hester Winsome.