"Those look just like police!" she whispered. "What have they come for?"
"About these losses, I believe. Mr. Chandos has again lost something from his desk."
"What! besides the first loss the other day?"
"Yes, he feels very much annoyed: and it is enough to make him feel so."
"I'd forgive a little bit of pilfering—that is, I would not be too harsh upon the thief," she remarked. "Pretty lace and such like vanities do bear their attractions. But when it comes to violating letters and private papers, that is essentially another affair. What are the police going to do in it? Do you know?"
"I believe the servants' boxes and pockets are about to be examined."
"I should think, then, my lace, at any rate, will come to light," she laughed, as she tripped up the stairs.
The process of searching seemed to be pretty long. Mr. Chandos was in the oak-parlour, when one of the officers, who seemed to be superior to the other, came in.
"Well, sir," said he, as he took the seat to which Mr. Chandos invited him, "there's no trace of any stolen property about the maids or their boxes. One or two of them had got some love-letters: they seemed precious more afraid of my reading them than of finding lace or money," he added, with a broad smile. "I just glanced over the epistles, enough to convince myself that there was nothing wrong: but there is no game more formidable to be found."
Mr. Chandos made no reply. I thought he looked puzzled.