Maldon had not taken all the notes upstairs, and left none of
them downstairs. Was it possible that in that small roll, in that
crushed ball that he had dropped into the grate, there was nearly a
thousand pounds--the equivalent of an income of a pound a week
for ever and ever?... Never mind! The incident, so far as he was
concerned, was closed. The dogma of his future life would be that the
bank-notes had never existed.
"And I've looked _ev_'rywhere!" Rachel insisted with strong
emphasis.
Louis remarked, thoughtfully, as though a new aspect of the affair was
presenting itself to him--
"It's really rather serious, you know!"
"I should just say it was--as much money as that!"
"I mean," said Louis, "for everybody. That is to say, Julian and me.
We're involved."
"How can you be involved? You didn't even know it was in the house."
"No. But the old lady might have dropped it. I might have picked it
up. Julian might have picked it up. Who's to prove--"
She cut in coldly--
"Please don't talk like that!"
He smiled with momentary constraint. He said to himself--
"It won't do to talk to this kind of girl like that. She won't stand
it.... Why, she wouldn't even _dream_ of suspicion falling on
herself--wouldn't dream of it.
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