‘There was a priest, the father confessor, you understand. Luck. F. Gerald saw her extract something and leapt aside, calling a warning to Hilary. I think it inadvisable—I don’t want an intimacy to spring up between you and a man of that type. I call upon you to assist me in the apprehension of this person. ” The detective thrust his notebook into his pocket. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. After all, this could never be the black sheep. The knight, who could ill brook this familiarity, instantly arose. Rot, no doubt; but we can’t alter it. For the present, he murmured his farewells, and turning, caught Hilary’s eye and walked away, crossing the ballroom to move into the less opulent, and less crowded, saloon next door where servants were dispensing refreshments. There was a look in her eyes which puzzled him. ‘You’ve cause to be grateful to Gerald, then. " "At your peril, sirrah!" cried Wood.
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