His back was no sooner turned, than she slipped this casket into the box. The spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares. “What do you think of that farce?” he exclaimed bitterly. In any case, there was no doing anything on a Sunday and Brewis Charvill, his main quarry, had gone out of town unexpectedly. “In five minutes I shall be ready. It is a very small affair, after all, and you can pay me back if you will. There was a wild light in her eye, and her straight hair was out demonstrating and suffragetting upon some independent notions of its own.
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