‘What is it?’ ‘Er—shouldn’t I tell—I mean, the young lady, sir—’ ‘You can leave the young lady to me. "His life—or yours?" "No one shall harm you more, my dear," cried Lady Trafford. . . She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. I want to tell every one. ‘What now?’ ‘Now,’ she answered flatly, ‘you will please to tell me at once why you have come here. Something he saw there had a curious effect upon him.
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