A nod was exchanged. ’ At that, a flush drenched her cheeks and she snatched her hand away. "I'm a peace-officer," he added, "about to arrest a notorious criminal. On these were thrown all the horrible contents of Jonathan's museum, together with the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard. He reached the top floor and ran down the corridor to the little dressing room at the end where he had lost her before. But her heart kept on sinking. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. Then he went back to his rooms and lit a cigar. I don’t care. She touched it, and her gaze lifted. ” He resumed, after a mouthful: “Here is a girl of sixteen or seventeen, seventeen and a half to be exact, running about, as one might say, in London.
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