Then one old crone, short-sighted and shaky-handed, called Ann Veronica “dearie,” and made some remark, obscure and slangy, of which the spirit rather than the words penetrated to her understanding. ‘You will arrest me? For—for—’ ‘Trespass, theft and spying,’ snapped Hilary. He was made welcome as McClintock's agent; but he politely declined all the proffered courtesies. Sir John looked about him, and somehow the laugh died away.
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