"You had better let me convey her to Dollis Hill," he said. The pistol was his own, it is true, but it was one which was taken from him when he forced his way in upon me before. “At a boarding-house?” he gasped. A delicate flush of colour streamed into her cheeks. “I wonder,” she murmured to herself, “if this is the beginning. The blouse dried nicely, it would only need a touch of starch and a little ironing. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage.
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