She was standing there, smiling at the audience as at her friends. Chapter VIII “WHITE’S” Northwards, away from the inhospitality of West Kensington, rumbled the ancient four-wheel cab, laden with luggage and drawn by a wheezy old horse rapidly approaching its last days. Madame shrugged. ‘Now, madame, tell me all about your life in France. “We sent for you several hours ago,” he remarked. Her motherly features creased into anxious wrinkles. He went on munching his water-chestnuts, and stared at the skyline. Well, I was all for dragging in Bow Street there and then, and getting the pair of those fraudsters thrown in gaol. She had had two days of employment-seeking now. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook.
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