" "You needn't trouble yourself," replied Thames. It was a clear, lovely, October morning. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. Overjoyed beyond measure at having vanquished this apparently-insurmountable obstacle, Jack darted through the door. “Garçon,” he said, “will you ask the gentleman at the next table if he will do me the honour of taking a glass of wine with me. You have never known what it is to want food, raiment, shelter. He dodged the boot this time, and smashed his left upon the Wastrel's lips, leaving them bloody pulp. Cathy's eyebrows perked up. She had always had a wonderful ear for phrasing, even back in the days of the viol. It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters.
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