” Chapter XIX “THIS IS NOT THE END” “I said some afternoon,” she remarked, throwing open her warm coat, and taking off her gloves, “but I certainly did not mean to-day. ‘You are dead, you,’ he yelled back, leaping into the seat of the final pew. They were silent for a time. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. ‘Then we will beg. ’ ‘But what dispositions?’ ‘Posted the men I had brought back with me all about Golden Square to watch for Valade. Interrogation takes many forms, you know, Lucy. “No,” she said, under her breath, “you can’t face it. “Some day,” she answered. Wood could give him no further information respecting Sir Rowland Trenchard than what he had obtained from Kneebone; but begged him to defer the further consideration of the line of conduct he meant to pursue until the morrow, when he hoped to have a plan to lay before him, of which he would approve. If not, I have plenty to think about,” she answered, leaning back in her chair, and watching the smoke from her own cigarette curl upwards. He awoke, strangely content.
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