"Beg you pardon, ma'am--but are you going away for good?"
He was startled by her tone. Its unexpected, unlady-like harshness fell
on his trained ear with the disagreeable effect of a false note. "Yes. I
am going away. And the best thing for all of you is to go away too, as
soon as you like. You can go now, to-day, this moment. You had your
wages paid you only last week. The longer you stay the greater your
loss. But I have nothing to do with it now. You are the servants of Mr.
de Barral--you know."
The butler was astounded by the manner of this advice, and as his eyes
wandered to the drawing-room door the governess extended her arm as if to
bar the way. "Nobody goes in there." And that was said still in another
tone, such a tone that all trace of the trained respectfulness vanished
from the butler's bearing. He stared at her with a frank wondering gaze.
"Not till I am gone," she added, and there was such an expression on her
face that the man was daunted by the mystery of it. He shrugged his
shoulders slightly and without another word went down the stairs on his
way to the basement, brushing in the hall past Mr. Charles who hat on
head and both hands rammed deep into his overcoat pockets paced up and
down as though on sentry duty there.
The ladies' maid was the only servant upstairs, hovering in the passage
on the first floor, curious and as if fascinated by the woman who stood
there guarding the door. Being beckoned closer imperiously and asked by
the governess to bring out of the now empty rooms the hat and veil, the
only objects besides the furniture still to be found there, she did so in
silence but inwardly fluttered. And while waiting uneasily, with the
veil, before that woman who, without moving a step away from the drawing-
room door was pinning with careless haste her hat on her head, she heard
within a sudden burst of laughter from Miss de Barral enjoying the fun of
the water-colour lesson given her for the last time by the cheery old
man.
Mr. and Mrs. Fyne ambushed at their window--a most incredible occupation
for people of their kind--saw with renewed anxiety a cab come to the
door, and watched some luggage being carried out and put on its roof. The
butler appeared for a moment, then went in again. What did it mean? Was
Flora going to be taken to her father; or were these people, that woman
and her horrible nephew, about to carry her off somewhere? Fyne couldn't
tell. He doubted the last, Flora having now, he judged, no value, either
positive or speculative. Though no great reader of character he did not
credit the governess with humane intentions. He confessed to me naively
that he was excited as if watching some action on the stage. Then the
thought struck him that the girl might have had some money settled on
her, be possessed of some means, of some little fortune of her own and
therefore-He imparted this theory to his wife who shared fully his consternation.
"I can't believe the child will go away without running in to say good-
bye to us," she murmured. "We must find out! I shall ask her." But at
that very moment the cab rolled away, empty inside, and the door of the
house which had been standing slightly ajar till then was pushed to.