"Friday!" echoed Mrs. ” He shook her diminutive hand. She backed away from him. They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. 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. Nor was this impression removed as he stole a glance at Mrs. “Oh, you can act!” she cried. But how close? She glanced about at the shrouded furnishings for possible cover.
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