Part 3 (1/2)

”Rachel--”

Mrs. Maldon gave a hesitating cough.

”Yes, Mrs. Maldon?” said Rachel questioningly deferential, and smiling faintly into Mrs. Maldon's apprehensive eyes. Against the background of the aged pair she seemed dramatically young, lithe, living, and wistful. She was nervous, but she thought with strong superiority: ”What are those old folks planning together? Why do they ring for me?”

At length Mrs. Maldon proceeded--”I think I ought to tell you, dear, Mr. Batchgrew is obliged to leave this money in my charge to-night.”

”What money?” asked Rachel.

Mr. Batchgrew put in sharply, drawing up his legs--”This!... Here, young miss! Step this way, if ye please. I'll count it. Ten, twenty, thirty--” With new lickings and clickings he counted the notes all over again. ”There!” When he had finished his pride had become positively nave.

”Oh, my word!” murmured Rachel, awed and astounded.

”It is rather a lot, isn't it?” said Mrs. Maldon, with a timid laugh.

At once fascinated and repelled, the two women looked at the money as at a magic. It represented to Mrs. Maldon a future free from financial embarra.s.sment; it represented to Rachel more than she could earn in half a century at her wage of eighteen pounds a year, an unimaginable source of endless gratifications; and yet the mere fact that it was to stay in the house all night changed it for them into something dire and formidable, so that it inspired both of them--the ancient dame and the young girl--with naught but a mystic dread. Mr. Batchgrew eyed the affrighted creatures with satisfaction, appearing to take a perverse pleasure in thus imposing upon them the horrid incubus.

”I was only thinking of burglars;” said Mrs. Maldon apologetically.

”There've been so many burglaries lately--” She ceased, uncertain of her voice. The forced lightness of her tone was almost tragic.

”There won't be any more,” said Mr. Batchgrew condescendingly.

”Why?” demanded Mrs. Maldon with an eager smile of hope. ”Have they caught them, then? Has Superintendent Snow--”

”They have their hands on them. To-morrow there'll be some arrests,”

Mr. Batchgrew answered, exuding authority. For he was not merely a Town Councillor, he was brother-in-law to the Superintendent of the Borough Police. ”Caught 'em long ago if th' county police had been a bit more reliable!”

”Oh!” Mrs. Maldon breathed happily. ”I knew it couldn't be Mr. Snow's fault. I felt sure of that. I'm so glad.”

And Rachel also was conscious of gladness. In fact, it suddenly seemed plain to both women that no burglar, certain of arrest on the morrow, would dare to invade the house of a lady whose trustee had married the sister of the Superintendent of Police. The house was invisibly protected.

”And we mustn't forget we shall have a man sleeping here to-night,”

said Rachel confidently.

”Of course! Of course! I was quite overlooking that!” exclaimed Mrs.

Maldon.

Mr. Batchgrew threw a curt and suspicious question--”What man?”

”My nephew Julian--I should say my grand-nephew.” Mrs. Maldon's proud tone rebuked the strange tone of Mr. Batchgrew. ”It is his birthday.

He and Louis are having supper with me. And Julian is staying the night.”

”Well, if you take my advice, missis, ye'll say nowt to n.o.body. Lock the bra.s.s up in a drawer in that wardrobe of yours, and keep a still tongue in your head.”

”Perhaps you're right,” Mrs. Maldon agreed--”as a matter of general principle, I mean. And it might make Julian uneasy.”

”Take it and lock it up,” Mr. Batchgrew repeated.