The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. “How so?” “I should have shared these things with you earlier, my sweet heart. What!— you know so little of that child? She ran away from you. He glanced at Miss Klegg again, and spoke quickly and furtively, with eager eyes on Ann Veronica’s face. The vast heap of rubbish on the floor had been so materially increased by the bricks and plaster thrown down in his attack upon the wall of the Red Room, that it was with some difficulty he could find the blanket which was almost buried beneath the pile. She had trembled on the verge of such a resolution before, but this time quite definitely she made it. He took her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke, divided against himself, in a voice that was forced and insincere. Glancing at the finger-post over the cage, which has been described as situated at the outskirts of the village, and seeing no directions to Dollis Hill, he made fresh inquiries as to where it lay, from an elderly man, who was standing with another countryman near the little prison. His attention drawn, the captain was easily able to make out the pretty features under the feathered hat, and the same dark riding habit the fugitive had worn on that first occasion at Remenham House. “I cannot say who he is,” said Ann Veronica, “but he is a married man. I’m sorry to disappoint you.
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