“What are you doing?” He cried. Fortescue rambled round the garden with soft, propitiatory steps, the Corinthian nose upraised and his hands behind his back, pausing to look long and hard at the fruit-trees against the wall. '" "An ingenious device," laughed Gay. And he had gone away without knowing the truth! "My proa boys are ready; the wind is brisk; and in an hour we shall be beyond all pursuit. ‘Forgive this intrusion, ma’am, I beg. But it is that I have a very bad temper, you understand.
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