“Good!” he said, perhaps a trifle thickly. “Good! Glad you’ve come—we’re pals—you said so—on stairs—b’fore dinner. Very glad you’ve come. Won’t you sit down?”
He waved the drawer benevolently, by way of making her free of the room. The movement disturbed one of the bank-notes, which fluttered in Molly’s direction and fell at her feet.
She stooped and picked it up. When she saw what it was her bewilderment increased.
“But—but——” she said.
His lordship beamed upon her with a pebble-beached smile of indescribable goodwill.
“Sit down,” he urged. “We’re pals—no quol with you—you’re good friend. Quol—Uncle Thomas.”
“But, Lord Dreever, what are you doing? What was that noise I heard?”
“Opening drawer,” said his lordship affably.
“But——” She looked again at what she had in her hand. “But this is a five pound note.”
“Five pound note,” said his lordship—“quite right. Three more of them in here.”