"Didn't you know they had been removed?"
"Perhaps Mr. Nash has had it done; or Dr. Banyard."
"Why should they? Besides, neither of them has been here since Saturday; and the things were here then, because I saw them."
"Ah, if you saw them that doesn't look as if they could have had it done, does it? But--may I ask, Miss Lindsay, how it matters?"
"How it matters, Morgan--the things are worth a great deal of money."
"Isn't that all the more reason why they shouldn't be allowed to fall into the hands of--I don't wish to cause you pain, Miss Lindsay--of those who are coming?"
"What do you mean?"
"Don't you know? Then, in that case, Miss Lindsay, I will have inquiries made, and will inform you, at the earliest possible moment, of the result."
He slipped out of the room so rapidly that she had not a chance to question him further, leaving her more bewildered than he had found her. What did he mean? what could he mean? She did not like to suspect him of impertinence, or even something worse; yet--what had he implied? That it would be just as well that these most valuable possessions of her father should be kept out of the hand--of those who were coming? She did not doubt that the state of affairs was known to the household; could he have been referring to the creditors? was he suggesting that they should be defrauded of what might go some distance towards settling their claims, and that she should connive at such a fraud? If he had not meant that, what had he meant? Her impulse was to call him back, and insist upon an explanation there and then.
But she reflected that, whatever his meaning might have been, she had made herself quite plain; his manner had shown it. His error, perhaps, had been one of over-zeal for her service; though that was not a fault of which she had supposed Morgan would have been likely to be guilty. Still, that was how it might have been. If so, now he understood--that that was not the sort of zeal which she desired. If--as, in spite of his evasions, she thought was possible, he knew where the missing articles were to be found--she gave him an opportunity to restore them, in his own fashion, to their former places, no doubt, when she returned again to the study, she would find them where they had always been. With some vague notion of giving him such an opportunity, there and then, she opened the French window which led into the grounds--through which Elaine Harding had made that entry she was never to forget, which had changed the whole face of the world for her, as well as for others--and, hatless, passed out into the morning air.