A florid-looking young woman rose up and accosted him eagerly. Ennison himself, with the recollection of Annabel’s visit still fresh in his mind, was for a moment constrained and ill at ease. ’ ‘That wasn’t my fault. ” “Bring her—here,” Hill muttered. All three, then, burst into an immoderate fit of laughter. The smell of gunpowder was strong in the room. Past her shot the little old lady in the bonnet, running incredibly fast, but otherwise still alertly respectable, and she was making a strange threatening sound as she ran, such as one would use in driving ducks out of a garden—“B-rr-r-r-r—!” and pawing with black-gloved hands.
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