Still no sound. ’ Gerald was relieved to hear the loud guffaw issuing from the old man’s lips. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. She walked back to the car. , or that she had a care in the world. Leave the rest to me. He began to tell me something—and stopped. About the Abbey and Abingdon Street stood the outer pickets and detachments of the police, their attention all directed westward to where the women in Caxton Hall, Westminster, hummed like an angry hive. In truth, Sheila never saw Lucy murder anyone at all, she only saw the blood. The blaze, however, was sufficient to reveal to the thief-taker the features of his intended assassin.
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