Impressed with this idea, he paused for a moment to listen. A glance sufficed to show the young man how matters stood. " Silence. "You're mistaken, Winny. . ’ ‘Unless it is Captain Roding,’ put in Lucilla Froxfield from the curved back sofa on the other side of the fireplace. ‘You are Mrs Ibstock, I think,’ she said eagerly. After a while one began to talk. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside.
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