Rachel turned instinctively to
prevent a possible intruder from entering and catching sight of
those dim suspicions before they could be driven back into their dark
corners. Then she remembered that she had asked Mrs. Tams to bring up
some Revalenta Arabica food for Mrs. Maldon as soon as it should be
ready. And she sedately opened the door. Mrs. Tams, with her usual
serf-like diffidence, remained invisible, except for the hand holding
forth the cup. But her soft voice, charged with sensational news, was
heard--
"Mrs. Grocott's boy next door but one has just been round to th' back
to tell me as there was a burglary down the Lane last night."
As Rachel carried the food across to the bed, she could not help
saying, though with feigned deference, to Mr. Batchgrew--
"You told us last night that there wouldn't _be_ any more
burglaries, Mr. Batchgrew."
The burning tightness round the top of her head, due to fatigue and
lack of sleep, seemed somehow to brace her audacity, and to make her
careless of consequences.
The trustee and celebrity, though momentarily confounded, was
recovering himself now. He determined to crush the pert creature whose
glance had several times incommoded him.
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