Are you satisfied?’ Grudgingly, Jack Kimble took back the coins. ’ ‘You can arrest me,’ answered Kimble belligerently, ‘but you can’t make me say nothing about her. Let him be sure. He returned to the car, Cokes in hand. Of course, it really signified nothing in this careless part of the world that she was travelling alone. This one was Henry Esmond, that one the melancholy Marius, and so forth and so on; never any villains. The spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares.
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