In the course of the next morning, June was informed by Uncle Si, with his most sanctimonious air that "he could not pass over her impudence, and that she had better pack her box and go." Moreover, that force might be lent to this ukase, he sternly summoned William from the lumber room, and ordered the young man to help her down with her box as soon as it was ready; and then he must fetch her a cab.
This was more than June had bargained for. She was expecting to be kicked out; but she had not looked for the process to be quite so summary. It did not suit her plans at all.
"Get a room for yourself in a decent neighbourhood," said the old man. "Mrs. Runciman will know of one, no doubt. You've money enough to keep you while you look for work."
June's swift mind, however, saw instant disadvantages. Secretly, she cherished the hope, a slender one, no doubt, of being able to discover where the picture was hid. Once, however, she left the house that hope would vanish. And it was painfully clear that it was Uncle Si's recognition of this fact which now made him so determined to be quit of her.
The old serpent was fully alive to what lay at the back of her mind. He knew that so long as she slept under his roof the picture could never be safe.
