'We can't work any more till we know for sure about it,' said little Phil. 'Oh, Kathie, do settle something quickly.'
'I'm going to,' said Kathie. 'Put all our things together neatly, Phil. I'll be back in a minute.'
And in less than five she was back.
'Phil, Neville,' she called out, 'you're to come up-stairs to the locked-up room where aunty keeps the best linen, and the best china, and the best silver. Aunty's going to show it all to us because it's a wet day, and we don't want to work any more.'
'It is better not to tire yourselves over the pincushions,' said Miss Clotilda's gentle voice behind her, 'and you will have all the afternoon for them. I am sure it is not going to clear. So come along. I have got my keys. It is a very good idea of yours, Kathie.'
Up jumped Neville and Phil. Kathie was already nearly at the top of the staircase, Miss Clotilda following more slowly. From the long passage which ran almost the length of the house on the first floor, she led the way down a shorter one, then up a little flight of steps ending in a small landing where there were two doors.
Miss Clotilda pointed to one on the right.
'That was the old butler's room,' she said. 'He left last year, for he was too old to work and he would not rest while here.'
'Is he dead?' asked Neville.
'Yes,' she replied; 'he died a week or so before Mrs. Wynne did. I have often thought,' she added, with a sigh, 'that he might have known something had he been alive.'