Mr. and Mrs. Fyne ambushed at their window--a most incredible occupation
for people of their kind--saw with renewed anxiety a cab come to the
door, and watched some luggage being carried out and put on its roof. The
butler appeared for a moment, then went in again. What did it mean? Was
Flora going to be taken to her father; or were these people, that woman
and her horrible nephew, about to carry her off somewhere? Fyne couldn't
tell. He doubted the last, Flora having now, he judged, no value, either
positive or speculative. Though no great reader of character he did not
credit the governess with humane intentions. He confessed to me naively
that he was excited as if watching some action on the stage. Then the
thought struck him that the girl might have had some money settled on
her, be possessed of some means, of some little fortune of her own and
therefore--
He imparted this theory to his wife who shared fully his consternation.
"I can't believe the child will go away without running in to say good-
bye to us," she murmured. "We must find out! I shall ask her.
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