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Of course you're bound to be found out,
and of course there will be a scandal." . . . He perceived that
this last note was written on his own paper. "Merkle!" he cried
sharply.
"Yessir!"
Merkle had been just outside, on call.
"Did my mother write any of these notes here?" he asked.
"Two, sir. Her ladyship was round here three times, sir."
"Did she see all these letters?"
"Not the telephone calls, sir. I 'ad put them on one side.
But. . . . It's a little thing, sir."
He paused and came a step nearer. "You see, sir," he explained with
the faintest flavour of the confidential softening his mechanical
respect, "yesterday, when 'er ladyship was 'ere, sir, some one rang
up on the telephone--"
"But you, Merkle--"
"Exactly, sir. But 'er ladyship said 'I'LL go to that, Merkle,' and
just for a moment I couldn't exactly think 'ow I could manage it,
sir, and there 'er ladyship was, at the telephone. What passed,
sir, I couldn't 'ear. I 'eard her say, 'Any message?' And I FANCY,
sir, I 'eard 'er say, 'I'm the 'ousemaid,' but that, sir, I think
must have been a mistake, sir.


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