He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. Ann Veronica ignored her friend’s confusion. Anna sighed as she reflected that her sister had simply revelled in her indiscretions. I——” Then he stopped short, for he began to remember things. ‘Very well, never mind. ’ ‘Aye, but she don’t reckon to militiamen. I will not be sent away. She read the policeman’s rueful glance when she caught his refection in his rearview mirror.
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