’ Trodger had started towards the stairs, signing to his men to get behind the lady. The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights. “Yeah. " "Did I hear you aright?" asked Trenchard, with startling eagerness. Sheppard is Constance Trenchard," replied Jonathan, maliciously. These fellows must be right,” he added thoughtfully, “and yet—there’s a mystery somewhere. The back of the house had been the Alps for climbing, and the shrubs in front of it a Terai. It was then that the young man entered his thought with some permanency: because there was no apparent reason for his joining the tour, since from the beginning he had shown no interest in anything.
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