"I'm at a loose end, auntie. They want my room over at Wimbledon—but only for a week. Hetty and Jack have come home from their music-hall engagement in Paris, and they've asked me to give up my room for a week. So I've no place to sleep. I've been wondering if Mr. Boyne would mind me coming here. Do you think he'd object?"
"No, I'm sure he wouldn't mind, dear!" she declared. "I'll ask him now—when I go up. He's often inquiring after you."
So when she took up her master's tea a quarter of an hour later, she said:
"Marigold's downstairs, sir. She's in a bit of trouble, sir."
"Trouble! Why?" asked Boyne sharply. "What's the matter? Has she left the bank?"
"Oh, no, sir. It's only because she's turned out of her room at Wimbledon for a week for her brother-in-law and his wife, so she wants to come here and stay with me. Would you have any objection?"
"Of course not, Mrs. Felmore. Tell her to come up and see me now."
Then, when the old woman had gone, his genial attitude instantly changed.
"So the girl wants to come here—does she? Yes, she shall come. Oh, yes!" he growled grimly. "She and that fellow are playing a very pretty game. But I shall win, never fear!"
A moment later Marigold entered the room, saying: