“It’s jolly,” he said, “to feel you have come to me. Not wisely but too well. The leg and wing of a duck were disposed of by this gentleman in a twinkling; a brace of pigeons and a pound of steak followed with equal celerity; and he had just begun to make a fierce assault upon the eggs and ham. “There was a man called Montague Hill,” she said hoarsely, “but he is dead. I know nothing about the matter, but I feel convinced that you are right. 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.
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