Mrs. Lecount looked at her
watch for the third time, without an attempt on this occasion to conceal
the action from her companion's notice. There were literally two minutes
left for her to get clear of North Shingles. Two minutes would be
enough, if no accident happened. She had discovered the Alpaca dress;
she had heard the whole story of the adventure in Vauxhall Walk; and,
more than that, she had even informed herself of the number of the
house--which Mrs. Wragge happened to remember, because it answered
to the number of years in her own age. All that was necessary to her
master's complete enlightenment she had now accomplished. Even if there
had been time to stay longer, there was nothing worth staying for.
"I'll strike this worthy idiot dumb with a _coup d'etat_," thought the
housekeeper, "and vanish before she recovers herself."
"Horrible!" cried Mrs. Lecount, interrupting the ghostly narrative by
a shrill little scream and making for the door, to Mrs. Wragge's
unutterable astonishment, without the least ceremony. "You freeze the
very marrow of my bones. Good-morning!" She coolly tossed the Oriental
Cashmere Robe into Mrs. Wragge's expansive lap and left the room in an
instant.
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