‘Oh, peste, you make me late!’ She glared up at Roding. Don’t look so frightened. ” “I’ll frame it—when I get it. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. . ‘Then it is that you will have pity? Here we have come, we poor, for aid. I hold a warrant from Mr. Here was a hole as wide as a church-door. ’ ‘What if she goes back to Charvill?’ demanded Roding. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin.
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