"For a few days only! When does he intend to enter into possession of Eagles' Nest?"
"I cannot tell: he is an invalid just now," was the hurried answer, as if the banker did not care to be questioned. "Good-day, Miss Raynor." And away he went with a quick step.
Edina began to wash up the tea-things, that she might get to some ironing. Her mind was busy, and somewhat troubled. Reminiscences of George Atkinson, thoughts of the missing desk and of the lost bonds that were perhaps in it, kept rapidly chasing each other in her brain—and there seemed to be no comfort in any one of them.
"Had the desk been brought away from Eagles' Nest, I must have seen it," she remarked at length, but in doubtful tones, as if not feeling altogether sure of her assertion.
"But surely, Edina, you don't think we should bring it!" cried Mrs. Raynor, looking up from her work, which she had resumed.
"Not intentionally, of course, Mary. The only chance of it would be if Charles, or any one else, inadvertently packed it up."
"I am sure he did not," said Mrs. Raynor. "Had it been brought away by accident we should certainly have seen it, and sent it back to Eagles' Nest."
"I remember that desk quite well," spoke up Kate, looking off the spelling-lesson she was learning. "I remember seeing Frank empty all the papers out of it one morning.
"Frank did?" cried Edina.
"Why, yes: it was Frank who examined the desk," said Mrs. Raynor. "I now recollect as much as that. It was the day after the funeral. You were upstairs, Edina, helping to pack Daisy's things for London. I was crying about the money we owed, not knowing whether it was much or little, and Frank said we had better examine the bills. I told him the bills were most likely all in the little ebony desk—and he went to get them.