“Go away!” she said thickly. “Yes, I’ll go away. I’m not going to stay in a house like this, that’s no more and no less than a boarding-house! You and your friend the cook can——”
“Be quiet, woman!” said a voice of thunder. Norah, who had shrunk back before the angry housekeeper, felt a throb of relief as Allenby strode into the room. At the moment there was nothing of the butler about him—he was Sergeant Allenby, and Mrs. Atkins was simply a refractory private.
“I won’t be quiet!” screamed the housekeeper. “I——”
“You will do as you’re told,” said Allenby, dropping a heavy hand on her shoulder. “That’s enough, now: not another word. Now go to your room. Out of ’ere, or I’ll send for the police.”
Something in the hard, quiet voice filled Mrs. Atkins with terror. She cast a bitter look at Norah, and then slunk out of the room. Allenby closed the door behind her.
“I’m very sorry, miss,” he said—butler once more. “I hope she didn’t frighten you.”
“Oh, no—only she was rather horrible,” said Norah. “Whatever is the matter with her, Allenby? I hadn’t said anything to make her so idiotic.”
“I’ve been suspecting what was the matter these last three days,” said Allenby darkly. “Look ’ere, miss.” He opened a cupboard, disclosing rows of empty bottles. “I found these ’ere this morning when she was in the kitchen: I’d been missing bottles from the cellar. She must have another key to the cellar-door, ’owever she managed it.”
There came a tap at the door, and Mr. Linton came in—to have the situation briefly explained to him.
“I wouldn’t have had it happen for something,” he said angrily. “My poor little girl, I didn’t think we were letting you in for this sort of thing.”