What was this man?" "A detective from the States. Then there was also the horse. "I don't know," she answered vaguely. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. " "You flatter me," smiled Sir James. “Don’t think that I have been playing the spy upon you,” he continued.
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