ttle harmonium.

And yet no one is there to warn Helen of the approaching danger and
misery.

CHAPTER 20

THE SILVER TEAPOT

Time sped on and nothing happened to alarm or upset Helen untill a
certain October morning.

She had just commenced her breakfast, when in came Cyril attired in his
best black suit and stiff collar.

"Why Cyril" cried Helen "how very early you are."

"Yes I am" responded Cyril triumphantly "I am going to see a friend who
lives in Piccadilly and I doubt if I shall be back before 10 or 11
tonight."

"Really?" said Helen, "well make a good breakfast or you'll be quite
done up."

Cyril made a hearty meal and then went to the front door to see if the
weather promised to be fair; it looked rather gloomy, but no rain fell.
As though a sudden thought had struck him, Cyril turned round and
entered the office.

"Netherby" he cried sharply "who's afternoon out is it, your's or
Wilson's?

"It is Mr. Wilson's sir" replied Netherby.

"Then see he does'nt have it" said Cyril shortly "I have my own reasons
for wishing you both to remain at home today, and dont forget the office
is in your charge today Netherby; admit no gossiping women or
tradesmen."

"No sir" replied the clerk. Cyril turned to leave the office, nearly
knocking Helen over as he did so. "Are you off?" she enquired "put on
your overcoat dear, it is very chilly."

"All right" said Cyril and he reached his blue melton from the peg.

As Helen was helping him on with his coat she noticed something silver
sticking out of the breast pocket.

"Why whatever is this?" she asked in supprise, "it looks like the best
silver tea pot."

"Best silver tea pot!" cried Cyril scornfully, as though a man cant
carry his cigarette case about with him."

But he looked uncommonly angry for all that and Helen had seen and felt
quite enough to convince her that it was the best tea pot and she felt
her heart turn sick as she closed the front door after Cyril's
retreating figure.

CHAPTER 21

THE PAWN TICKET

Helen's heart was beating fast, as she went back to the sitting room,
"oh dear" she cried sitting down on the sofa "whatever is Cyril up to I
wonder it _was_ a tea pot I know and it was wrapped in cotton wool too
for it felt soft, I do hope he is up to no tricks."

Finding nothing to do Helen sat down to strum on the harmonium, but this
did not soothe her spirits and she wandered about the room till her eye
fell on a littl