He had not taken many steps when he perceived Quilt Arnold in the upper gallery, with a lamp in his hand. Pity you aren’t under my command. She was herself conscious of a recklessness of spirits almost hysterical. The Frenchman had moved back into Piccadilly from Down Street, at which the lad following him had immediately sauntered away a yard or two. She was supposed to be reading at home, and after breakfast she strolled into the vegetable garden, and having taken up a position upon the staging of a disused greenhouse that had the double advantage of being hidden from the windows of the house and secure from the sudden appearance of any one, she resumed the reading of Mr.
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