The spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares. She put her hand in his to be squeezed. The unequal battle went on. Then Sheila noticed the stains. “My dear Vee!” Her voice became very low. Having secured this implement, he burst from his conductor, and, leaping into the hatch, as clowns generally spring into the clockfaces, when in pursuit of harlequin in the pantomime,—that is, back foremost,— broke into a fit of loud and derisive laughter, kicking his heels merrily all the time against the boards.
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