Drummond smoked his cigarette meditatively. “The young lady, I presume, told you that her name was Anna,” he remarked. Understand me! I forbid it. . He had kissed his wife on the mouth … and had been horrified! There was real madness somewhere along this road. Her fingers rested upon his. “This is not every day. If he got her outside, surely the soldiers would see her and intervene. You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. ’ ‘Comment? How will it serve you to kill me?’ ‘I do not need to kill you. My business is with Lady Trafford.
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