" "Mr. “You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded. " "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. ” She laughed. Spurlock was no longer a man before this instinct; he was a child in trouble. “Dear me,” she said, “I fancy you exaggerate my fame. "If you'll tell me where to look for these things, and I do find them, I'll set you free. I might have told you the truth. Bowing to the stranger, the woollen-draper very politely requested to know his business. She took to listening through closed doors.
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