There stepped forth a tall brown man. " "Perhaps I read of it somewhere. Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. Likely as not outside the law, too. ‘In the bookroom, sir,’ answered the man, his eyes round as they took in the furious beauty at the visitor’s side. And talking of every conceivable thing. He was an imaginative young man. Unless—’ Something clicked in his mind and he stared at his friend without seeing him. To use it as a passport to card-tables and gin-bottles! McClintock wasn't having any guests; at any rate, he had not mentioned the fact. His hat was placed upon one pole, his wig on another. So was I, in fact.
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