Brendon felt his arm seized. ‘That is the man who tries to kill me, but he wounded instead my servant. " "Do not speak of it," rejoined Thames, with a look of horror. She knew that her voice was superior to Annabel’s, and she had no further qualms. Constance Widgett’s abundant copper-red hair was bent down over some dimly remunerative work—stencilling in colors upon rough, white material—at a kitchen table she had dragged up-stairs for the purpose, while on her bed there was seated a slender lady of thirty or so in a dingy green dress, whom Constance had introduced with a wave of her hand as Miss Miniver.
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