“You have reported the matter to the police?” The anxiety made his voice husky.
“Yes, but all they ever did was to make notes.”
“You have no idea who the burglar was? Burglars, I mean,” correcting himself awkwardly. “You never caught sight of him—them?”
“No—not a glimpse.”
“No—oh, just some tramp, I dare say.”
He was easier now, but his voice was a little unsteady from strain and with relief. “And now please——”
“Yes, I’ll hurry away now. Barker is dusting the best dinner service—if I’m not there to watch, she’s sure to break something. Call me, if you want me.”
“I shan’t want you, Aunt Caroline.”
CHAPTER XXII
As the fussy, bustling footsteps died away Stephen sank into an easy-chair—Richard’s own, as it chanced—and laid his head on a table. He was worn out with tension and uncertainty.