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"Well," drawled Silver, who was hovering near, dressed so carefully that he looked more of a foxy, neat bounder than ever. "I have noticed that some of the brutes have been sneaking round the place." Mrs. Belgrove shrieked. "Oh, how lucky I occupy a bedroom on the third floor. Just like a little bird in its tiny-weeny nest. They can't get at me there, can they, Lord Garvington?"
She knew perfectly well that Miss Greeby hated her, and guessed the reason, but she was not going to give her any satisfaction by revealing the true feelings of her heart. "Well, I intend to stay here, Jane, if it's all the same to you," cried Mrs. Belgrove in her liveliest manner and with a side glance, taking in both Miss Greeby and Lady Agnes.
And as the contents of the will were now generally known, every one agreed that the woman was a fool to give up wealth for a dull existence in the woods. "All the same it's very sweet," sighed Mrs. Belgrove, having made as much mischief as she possibly could. "I should like it myself if I could only dress as a Watteau shepherdess, you know, and carry a lamb with a blue ribbon round its dear neck."
"There's been a lot of burglaries in this neighborhood of late. I daresay these gypsies are mixed up in them." "Burglaries!" cried Mrs. Belgrove, and turned pale under her rouge, as she remembered that she had her diamonds with her. "Oh, it's all right! Don't worry," said Garvington, pushing back his chair. "They won't try on any games in this house while I'm here.
And then as two or three decided Mrs. Belgrove amongst the number there really could be nothing in the report that he loved Lady Agnes still, else he would scarcely come and stay where she was. As for Pine's wife, she was a washed-out creature, who had never really loved her cousin as people had thought.
"I don't think there is likely to be any trouble with these poor gypsies, Mrs. Belgrove," remarked Lady Agnes negligently. "Hubert has told me a great deal about them, and they are really not so bad as people make out."
Miss Greeby looked after her limp figure with a contemptuous grin, then she nodded casually to Mrs. Belgrove, and walked whistling down the terrace steps. "Cat, indeed!" commented Mrs. Belgrove to herself when she saw Miss Greeby's broad back disappear behind the laurels. "Nothing half so pretty. She's like a great Flanders mare.
"I'm talking of his behavior to Garvington," explained the hostess, touching her ruffled hair, "he doesn't give us enough money." "Why should he give you any?" asked Mrs. Belgrove bluntly. "Well, you see, dear, Garvington would never have allowed his sister to marry a nobody, unless " "Unless the nobody paid for his footing. I quite understand.
"Such nonsense, for I'm sure no burglar would enter a house filled with nothing but Early Victorian furniture." "Well? Well? Well?" said Mrs. Belgrove impatiently. "Clara Beeby thought that Garvington meant to shoot Noel." "Why, in heaven's name! Because Noel is his heir?" "I'm sure I can't help it if I've no children," said Lady Garvington, going off on another trail the one suggested by Mrs.
"He could easily get in by sticking a penknife in between the upper and lower sash of the window. It would be quite easy." "What nonsense you talk, Jane," said Mrs. Belgrove, impatiently. "Noel is not the man to come after a married woman when her husband is away. I have known him since he was a Harrow schoolboy, so I have every right to speak. Where is Sir Hubert?"
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