CHAPTER THE THIRD THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS Part 1 Two days after came the day of the Crisis, the day of the Fadden Dance. She looked down tassels of his shiny shoes with a scowl. " "Conduct me to your dwelling, Sir, without further delay," said Trenchard, sternly,—"to the boy. The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns. “From what you saw from the opposite pavement then, it is certain that some person who was able to move about was in this room only a minute or so before you entered it?” “That is so,” Anna answered. And one must—some of it must slip through one’s fingers.
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