John eased off. But he looked back into the hall and spoke to the sergeant who could just be seen behind him. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. We'll have some fun down there at my place, Spurlock; but we'll probably bore your wife to death. “What do you think of that?” he asked. Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table. Nothing could exceed the dismay of these personages when they learnt why they had been summoned. All at once it came to him what a fool he was to worry over this phase which was wholly suppositional.
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