“And then they are swollen up and inflamed and drunken with matter. The constable, Sharples, is in my pay. But they were too late. “You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. The two sisters were very fond of one another, I believe. I will do all this not because I love you, but—because you are Anna’s sister. She would write to Gerald. ” “I thought I explained—” “Come home!” Ann Veronica shrugged her shoulders. ’ She released the pistol which lay in her lap and gestured expressively with her hands. ’ Pottiswick sucked at his teeth through the gaps.
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