‘Um—begging your pardon, sir, but—um—what was you meaning to arrest the young lady for?’ ‘Trespassing, theft, and suspicion of spying,’ announced Roding fluently. Her mouth dry, she made her feet walk on, not daring to utter a word. He recognized the handwriting, and turned a shade paler. “He fell over at my feet,” she continued. It was difficult to get right. Always at your service. As he gazed down into the courts of the prison, he could not help shuddering, lest a false step might precipitate him below. ‘No, but I seen the light, sir. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so.
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