He got out in much the same way from the Gatehouse,—stole the keys, and passed through a room where I was sitting half-asleep in a chair. "But, pardon my intrusion. ” Lady Ferringhall was conscious of some relief. The vestry door opened to the mews behind, and not to Golden Square. She climbed slowly towards it, keeping close to the hedge side, fragrant with wild roses, and holding her skirts high above the dew-laden grass. I’m anxious, joyfully anxious, like a man when he has found a treasure. Think better of it. She loved to walk through the gardens, graced with columns that loomed overhead. The boy was bright and inquisitive as he was subtle. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. A father is in debt, we'll say. "I'll place it to your account, Sir Rowland," answered the thief-taker, smiling significantly.
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