‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified. The little old lady struck like a projectile upon the resounding chest of the foremost of these, and then Ann Veronica had got past and was ascending the steps. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. “Sydney is quite right, Miss Pellissier,” he said. I would not have him know—now—for the world. And you shall have a share of the gold for yourself. That is why I called myself Anna. I ought to have gone long ago. ” “Why?” she asked. ” He stood up rather close to her and looked into her eyes. Then she sang.
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