“Yes, thank you. Oh, and Miss Milne, as the Bristcombes are leaving this afternoon, you might like to come with us. You will not want to stay here all alone.”

“I was going to suggest it, ma’am. My cousin Betsy works at the Dower House, and I thought I might have a wee visit with her.”

“Excellent. You can come in the carriage that will be sent for us.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Grayshott.”

She took Roberta away. Delsie quietly closed the door after them before tipping back the mattress. Mr. Grayshott had liked his comfort. A soft, bulging feather tick rested on top of the firmer straw-filled one. Removing them posed a difficult problem. The feather tick she finally managed to push off, listening closely for the telltale tinkle of coins from within. There was none. The firmer straw-filled one was more difficult to remove. In order to be rid of it, it was necessary to shove it aside, then climb up on the springs to complete the job. She was panting with the effort, and lay back a moment to rest.

Casting up her eyes, she saw that the canopy sagged unevenly in the center, as though some weight bore on it. Her heart quickening, she leapt from the bed, dragged a chair to allow her a better view, and saw a whole heap of the canvas bags. She reached in for them, pulling them down and tossing them on the bed, one by one, counting each. There were an even dozen. Another twelve hundred stolen guineas! The feeling that settled over her was close to gloom. Was there no end to it? Was every nook and cranny of the house to yield more evidence of criminality on her husband’s part?

She clambered down, felt under the straw mattress from both sides instead of trying to remove it completely, and satisfied herself that she had got them all. The feather tick was returned, then she went like a thief with her twelve bags down to her own room. Better secrete them in the vault. She wrapped them up in her pelisse to conceal them from the eyes of the Bristcombes, should they be skulking below. With trembling fingers, she shoved them into the vault, which would hardly hold such a cache. If she found any more, she would have to discover a new hiding place. She felt as guilty as if she had stolen them herself.

Her upset continued throughout luncheon. She could hardly eat a bite, listened with only half an ear to Bobbie’s excited chatter about visiting Aunt Jane. The discovery even wiped from her mind the preceding night’s episode, which had been much with her throughout the morning. It was deVigne who came to take them to the Dower House in his carriage. With Miss Milne and Roberta present, the news could not be relayed to him. She regarded him surreptitiously, trying to read whether he was showing any discomfort or guilt over last night. He looked impassive, as ever. It seemed suddenly impossible to credit that it had been he. Any number of gentlemen possessed an evening suit. The watch fob need not have been a wishbone. It might have been any small object. He suddenly spoke, interrupting her line of thought.

“I’m sorry if I caused you to miss church this morning. I don’t know whether it is your custom to attend in such inclement weather. It is not my own, but I know you are fond of church. I didn’t think of it till too late, I’m afraid.”

“Yes, I always attend church on Sunday. I used to walk in the rain, and should certainly have gone had the carriage been there on time. But I hope by next week I shall not have to trouble you, deVigne. I hope to set up my own gig as soon as you manage to sell Mr. Grayshott’s carriages and horses.

“Gig?” he asked, in a loud voice.

“Yes, gig,” she answered firmly. There would clearly be an argument over this point, but, like the new discovery of money, it must await more privacy.

“The Bristcombes have got a gig,” Bobbie announced. “I like it. It’s so nice and jiggly.”

The rain had let up during the morning, and a weak ray of sunlight was attempting to force its way through the. curtain of lingering mist. Bobbie was taken into the saloon and made a fuss over by her great aunt, while Miss Milne went to visit with her cousin. The family business could not be discussed in front of Bobbie. Lady Jane soon surmised from the impatient movements of Mrs. Grayshott that there was news to be relayed, and said after half an hour, “You’ll never guess what cook is doing, Bobbie. Making gingerbread. Would you like to pop down to the kitchen and help?” Indeed she would, and scampered off in high spirits.

“What a treasure that child is,” Jane said fondly, “but, as we mentioned t’other day, one cannot forever have the children present. I know you have something to tell, Delsie, and have been on thorns this thirty minutes to hear it. Do tell me, have you had your search without me, and found more gold?”

“Twelve bags!” she exclaimed, unable to hold in the news another moment. She outlined amidst excited questions the details of her find. “And you may be sure that is not the end of it.”

“We must definitely go over the whole place tomorrow,” Jane declared, her eyes shining with eager anticipation.

“I have been doing a little peeking here and there. I think the saloon is clean-of money, I mean, for of course it is filthy. The Bristcombes took my message to the village for me, for the two maids I hope to hire. They asked me for the afternoon off today.”

“They often take a Sunday afternoon off,” Jane confirmed.

“How have they been behaving?” deVigne inquired.

“Respectfully. They are trying to improve, I think. What are your feelings on my latest discovery, deVigne?”

“That makes it twenty-five hundred guineas. It is beginning to become serious.”

“Yes, grand larceny is hardly a joking matter.”

“Let us conduct the search and see how much the total amounts to before we decide what to do about it. Any pixies in the orchard last night?” he asked next, in a spirit of civil inquiry only, as far as the widow could tell.

“As a matter of fact, there was one, which quite slipped my mind with the more important news,” she answered offhandedly. She risked a close scrutiny of deVigne, but could read nothing except interest on his face.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I heard a noise, and took a look out. I could only see one man.”

“What was he doing?” Lady Jane asked.

“Just snooping around, I believe. He didn’t try to come in, at least,” Delsie answered, feeling very warm at the memory of what had really happened.

“Ha. Maybe he left you another present. Have you taken a look around outside today?”

“No! I should have done so!”

“It’s a nasty, miserable day,” Jane consoled her. “No one else will have been there before you. You can have a look early tomorrow.”

“I shall, certainly.”

Sir Harold, who had been listening to all the talk, suddenly pushed himself to speech. “Andrew was up to some monkeyshines,” he said, impatiently eyeing a book that lay on the table beside him. “Not a doubt of it. Where else would he have got ahold of twenty-five hundred guineas? A small fortune. And kept it around the house in cash too, instead of putting it in the bank like a Christian, or into the funds. A pity the fellow was ever let into the family.”

“Good gracious!” Lady Jane shrieked, and turned pale around the edges of her rouge. “He wouldn’t have invented a counterfeiting machine, would he? The man has turned coiner on us.”

“The ones I saw were the real thing,” deVigne assured her.

“Was certainly up to something crooked,” Sir Harold insisted mulishly. “Running a gambling hell right under our very noses, likely as not.”

“He wasn’t well enough for that,” deVigne explained. “And in any case, the amount of traffic entailed would not have escaped our notice these last three years.”

“If it were that, he’d have lost his shirt,” Jane said more bluntly. “Lost every penny he played on the market, and always lost at cards too, as far as I can remember. Never backed a winning horse in his life. Whatever it was, I wish we knew. Twenty-five hundred guineas. If it weren’t actually illegal, we might continue with it. Well, Delsie, you are twenty-five hundred guineas to the good. What do you mean to do with the money?”

“Save it and make restitution when the case comes to court. I hope the judge will deal leniently with me if I can return most of the money.”

Lady Jane sat mute at such innocent honesty as this. Sir Harold nodded his head in approval. “An excellent notion,” he agreed. Then he gave in to temptation and picked up the book.

“I trust our cousin is funning,” deVigne stated. “As I trust you were also joking about setting up a gig.”

“I am not joking about either one.”

“There is no way they can take Delsie to court, is there, Max?” Jane asked.

“Of course not, and there is no way Mrs. Grayshott is setting herself up a gig either.”

“I believe I can manage it on my new salary,” she countered.

“With the sale of Andrew’s cattle and stable equipment, you can do better than a gig.”

“A carriage and team would be very expensive. The horses must be fed, you know, and two horses eating their heads off day after day will soon eat up my two hundred and fifty pounds. Then too, it requires a driver, whereas I think I could handle a gig myself, with a little practice.”

“Why not make it a dog cart and have done with it?” deVigne asked angrily.

“My dear, I cannot think you would wish to appear in the village in a gig,” Jane said, frowning. “If your own money is insufficient for a carriage, and nothing can be spared from Bobbie’s portion, you would do better to just use my carriage or Max’s when you wish to go out, I should be very happy to share mine, and you, Max, have several. One would always be free.”