He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether. Instead, he was bowing to her greataunt. She called them back very soon. And all this time perhaps you have been waiting, expecting to hear from me. What sort of proof? There are no papers at Remenham House. ’ ‘Miss?’ gaped the soldier. . ’ He stared at the point, glanced at the fallen sword imprisoned by her foot, and only just looked back at her weapon in time to see it thrust at him again. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me.
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