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‘Oh, I do love a flatterer. Vexation at his folly in suffering himself to be thus entrapped kept Wood for a short time silent. He glanced out of the window, looked back at the major and grasped the handle of the door. The Frenchman was already being followed. 13 with a latchkey went humming lightly up to her room. Drummond,” he continued, looking across at his vis-à-vis, “we look to you to give expression to our sentiments. ‘Ah, bah, it is enough,’ she cried, and turning, ran out of the room. Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees. His only warning was a gleam of silver in the faint spill of light from the house above.

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