\" His tone was weak and conciliatory. ” Anna shook hands with Brendon—a young man also, but older and more selfpossessed than Sydney Courtlaw. She looked at it with a little shudder, but she made no motion to take it. “Come right in,” he hissed under his breath, with the true conspirator’s note, closed the door very softly and pointed, “Through there!” By the meagre light of a gas lamp she perceived a cobbled yard with four large furniture vans standing with horses and lamps alight. Quilt, meanwhile, came down, examined the door, and finding it unfastened, locked it with a bitter imprecation on his brother-janizary's carelessness. His vicious abusiveness vanished. . .
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