‘I dropped the lantern,’ Jack’s muffled voice told her. “Will you come in, Sir John. The books slid from her arms and fluttered to the floor. It became suddenly glaringly apparent to her that it was impossible to return fifteen pounds or any sum less than twenty pounds to Ramage—absolutely impossible. But that did not stop Trodger, who had ridden up from Kent for the purpose, from detailing every little inspection and sortie that his men had made in their allotted task of watching Remenham House. Down under the incalculable selfishness of the penitent child there was the man's uneasy recollection of Judas. Her husband finally relented.
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