‘Um—begging your pardon, sir, but—um—what was you meaning to arrest the young lady for?’ ‘Trespassing, theft, and suspicion of spying,’ announced Roding fluently. Mind, I, Baptist Kettleby, say so. “We’re here to take your foster daughter down to the station to ask her a few questions sir. My wife—killed me. . She has already forgotten it. “Close your eyes. ’ ‘Yes, but if it is only we that know, it is of no use at all to me. She said that? To be closer to you?” “I think she is plotting something, though I cannot guess what. ” “My wife was astounded—wounded beyond measure. Arrived there, their first object was to seek out Davies, by whom they were conducted to the lady's retreat,—a lone habitation, situated on the outskirts of Saint George's Fields in Southwark. “Don’t be a hypocrite. .
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