" "Anything like that?" "Yes; but the colour is lavender. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. ‘Am I a fool? Can I blow off a head with a pistol which is not loaded?’ ‘She has a point,’ conceded Alderley, relaxing a little as amusement burgeoned again ‘Ten to one she is a French spy,’ burst from Roding. He was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, debonnair, good-looking. “If one half of the stories about Meysey Hill are true,” he answered, “I would not stretch out my little finger to save his life. ” His face darkened. She sat down awkwardly and helplessly on one of the little stools by her table and covered her face with her hands. CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely.
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