Next day Boyne remained in the house until Marigold had left to go to the City—for she was anxious to report the result of her vigil to her lover and then, instead of going out upon his daily collection of insurance premiums, he went to Pont Street.
He arrived at the fine red-brick house about eleven, opening the door with his latchkey. He found his wife in her bedroom, and closing the door, he exclaimed in an unusually excited voice:
"Lilla! there's trouble brewing—very serious trouble!"
"In what direction?" gasped the handsome woman, starting from the long mirror before which she was arranging her blouse.
"That girl Marigold—the old woman Felmore's niece—is suspicious, and she has established herself in my house in order to watch me!"
"Why is she suspicious?"
"I don't know. That's the mystery of it. How much she knows I can't tell."
"One thing is plain," said the woman. "If we are to save ourselves, her lips must be closed. Surely that will be easy—just a nice box of chocolates, tied with ribbon, or something like that—eh? We did it before with little Louise, at Cheltenham."
"Yes—but I don't like doing it. She's really an awfully nice girl, and I haven't the heart to give her a 'dose.'"
"She's watching you, you say! Therefore she's a danger to us all. Didn't I warn you about her weeks ago? If you don't want to court trouble, just give her a box of those beautiful expensive sweets, and then good-bye to all our worries."