“What’s this you’re taking out of the house, Anna?” Mr. Hayley’s tone was not very pleasant. “You mustn’t mind my asking you. My aunt, as you know, told me to remain here to-day to look after things.”
“Only my luggage it is,” stammered Anna. “I had hoped to have cleared out my room while the wedding in progress was.”
“Your luggage?” repeated James Hayley uncomfortably. He was now feeling rather foolish, and it was to him a very disturbing because an unusual sensation.
“Yes, my luggage,” repeated Anna. “And this”—she hesitated a moment—“this person here is going to look for a man to help carry out my heavy boxes. There are two. He cannot manage them himself.”
James Hayley looked surprised, but to her great relief, he allowed the stranger to slip by, and Anna for a moment watched the little man walking off at a smart pace towards the gate house. She wondered how she could manage to send him a message when the tiresome, inquisitive Mr. Hayley had gone.
“But whose motor is that?” Mr. Hayley went on, in a puzzled tone. “You must forgive me for asking you, Anna, but you know we live in odd times.” He had followed her into the kitchen, and was now standing there with her. As she made no answer, he suddenly espied the odd-looking parcel which stood close to his feet, where the stranger had put it down.
Mr. Hayley stooped, really with the innocent intention of moving the parcel out of the way. “Good gracious!” he cried. “This is a tremendous weight, Anna. What on earth have you got in there?” He was now dragging it along the floor.
“Don’t do that, sir,” she exclaimed involuntarily. “It’s fragile.”
“Fragile?” he repeated. “Nonsense! It must be iron or copper. What is it, Anna?”
She shook her head helplessly. “I do not know. It is something I have been keeping for a friend.”