"But why in the world did not Atkinson speak about it before? When he was last in England these bonds were being hunted for, high and low." "He says, I tell you, that he forgot all about the desk and its secret compartment. But, Frank, we cannot remedy the omission if we talk of it for ever; what I wanted to ascertain from you is, whether you remember where you left the desk." "No, that I don't. I remember turning the bills and papers out of it wholesale, and carrying them into the room where Mrs. Raynor was sitting. As to the desk, I suppose it remained upon the table." "You are sure you emptied it of all the papers?" "Quite sure," replied Frank. "I turned the desk upside down and shook the papers out, and saw that the desk was quite empty." "Kate says she saw you do it. But she does not recollect what became of the desk." "Neither do I. No doubt it was left in the room. I dare say it still remained there when you all came away from the house." "Well, it cannot be found," concluded Edina. "I think the probability is, that the desk was packed up by the servants and brought away in one of the large boxes, and was lost in the fire. If it had remained at Eagles' Nest, it would no doubt be there still?" "Then I suppose they will never find the lost money as long as oak and ash grow," observed Frank. "It is a very unsatisfactory thing. George Atkinson ought to have remembered and spoken in time." He was called away into the surgery, and Edina began to retie her bonnet-strings. Daisy had picked up some crochet-work. "Why don't you take your bonnet off, Edina, and stay?" "Because I must go home, dear." "Not before you have had some supper. Not stay for it! Why can't you stay?" "I do not like going back so late." "As if any one would hurt you!" "I do not fear that. But I am not London bred, you know, Margaret, and cannot quite overcome my dislike to London streets at night." "Oh, very well. No one cares to be with me now." Edina looked at her. It was not the first indication by several that Mrs. Frank Raynor had given of a spirit of discontent. "Will you tell me what is troubling you, Margaret? Something is, I know." "How do you know?" "Because I perceive it. I detect it every time I see you." "It's nothing at all," returned Daisy--who would not have spoken of her jealousy for the world. "That is, nothing that any one could help or hinder."