She tiptoed to the stand and gathered up the manuscripts which she carried to a chair by the window. ’ ‘Secret passage, is it?’ The sergeant seemed to brighten at this. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. “I can’t keep away from you. But this is like—like walking round a house that looks square and complete and finding an unexpected long wing running out behind. "That's the whole difficulty. Happen what might, he could not be in a worse position. Be warned by your father's fate. His shoulders relaxed and his gaze wavered.
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