By and by he ventured to peer into this window. "And there you're right, you may dipind, marm," observed Terence. "I'll place it to your account, Sir Rowland," answered the thief-taker, smiling significantly. Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words. His firmness never deserted him till his old master, Mr. Wild's name. "My name is Darrell," said the fugitive hastily. He was unusually absurd and ready, and all the time it seemed to Ann Veronica as a delightful possibility, as a thing not indeed to be entertained seriously, but to be half furtively felt, that he was being so agreeable because she had come back again. ‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door. He lunched in the Legal Club in Chancery Lane, and met Ogilvy.
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