As Jack departed, a dark figure, emerging from behind a wall, rushed after him. You steered and I rowed stroke. “This is all madness,” she declared wearily. ‘Assuming she can prove her identity, does Remenham House belong to her?’ Mrs Sindlesham shifted her shoulders. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. Nothing else so quickly establishes the condition of comradeship as the sharing of a laughable incident. After all, what can it matter? It was just to make sure. Stow it in the saddle, for I will take it with me.
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