” Chapter XXVI ANNABEL IS WARNED “You!” David Courtlaw crossed the floor of the dingy little sitting-room with outstretched hands. She took up the poker and stirred the fire vigorously. He began to talk again in quick undertones that she could not clearly hear. You refuse me your confidence. He nodded silently, too full for words. “A joke! Sir John, if you had presented yourself here an hour ago we should have greeted you in pained silence. “We are only in the dawn of the Age of Friendship,” he said, “when interest, I suppose, will take the place of passions. And if you dare to produce any kind of weapon at all,’ he added, taking a plain brass-barrelled little pistol from his own pocket and levelling it, ‘I will have no compunction in blowing off your head, you madcap female. ” He stared at her, trying to guess at the mystery of her thoughts. Half an hour's labour, during which he was obliged more than once to pause to regain breath, sufficed to make a hole wide enough to allow a passage for his arm up to the elbow. ‘So this is Pottiswick’s French spy. “We’ll go to a place where we can have a private room,” he said.
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