From the day she had been shown this dear little secret space, the key of the safe had lain there, excepting on the very rare occasions when she was able to take it out and use it. Of course she never did this unless she knew that Manfred was to be away for the whole day from Witanbury, and even then she trembled and shook with fright lest he should suddenly come in and surprise her. But what she had learnt made her tremors worth while. It was pleasant, indeed, to know that a lot of money--nice golden sovereigns and crisp five-pound notes--was lying there, and that Manfred must be always adding to the store. Last time she had looked into the safe there was eight hundred pounds! Two-thirds in gold, one-third in five-pound notes. She had sometimes thought it odd that Manfred kept such a lot of gold, but that was his business, not hers. It was very unkind of him not to have told her of all this money. After all, she helped to earn it! But she knew he believed her to be extravagant. What sillies men were! As if the fact that he had this money put away, no doubt accumulating in order that they might pay off the mortgage quicker, would make her spend more. Why, it had actually had the effect of making her more careful. In addition to the money in the safe, there were one or two deeds connected with little bits of house property Manfred had acquired in Witanbury during the last six years. And then, on the top shelf of the safe, there were a lot of letters--letters written in German, of which of course she could make neither head nor tail. Once a month a registered letter arrived, sometimes from Holland, sometimes from Brussels, for Manfred; and it had gradually become clear to her that it was these letters which he kept in the safe. * * * * * There came a loud impatient knock at the door. She started guiltily. "Open!" cried her husband imperiously. "Open, Polly, at once! I have already forbidden you to lock the door." But she knew by the tone of his voice that he was no longer really angry with her. So, walking rather slowly, she went across and unlocked the door. She stepped back quickly--the door opened, and a moment later she was in her husband's arms, and he was kissing her. "Well, little one! You're good now, eh? Does my little sugar lamb want a treat?" Polly knew that when he called her his little sugar lamb it meant that he was in high good-humour. "It won't be much of a treat to stay at home and do the civil to that old Mrs. Bauer," she said, and looked up at him coquettishly. There were good points about Manfred. When he was good-tempered, as he seemed to be just now, it generally meant that there would be a present for her coming along. And sure enough he pulled a little box out of one of his bulging pockets. "Here's a present for my little lollipop," he said.