"Evans!--Wilson!"
Kit had not been for Miss Arnott's presence it looked very much as if the two would have indulged in a scrimmage then and there. The lady's-maid showed a strong inclination to resort to physical force, which the other evinced an equal willingness to resent.
"Wilson, what is it which you are holding behind your back? I insist upon your showing me at once."
"This, miss--and this."
CHAPTER XXVII
[A CONFIDANT]
In her right hand Wilson held a knife--the knife. Miss Arnott needed no second glance to convince her of its identity. In her left a dainty feminine garment--a camisole, compact of lace and filmy lawn. The instant she disclosed them Evans moved forward, as if to snatch from her at least the knife. But Wilson was as quick as she was--quicker. Whipping her hands behind her back again she retreated out of reach.
"No, you don't! hands off! you try to snatch, you do!"
The baffled lady's-maid turned to her mistress.
"You see, miss, what she's like! and yet she wants to make out that she's no thief!"