He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. "All is prepared. Here I am as an alternative either to nasty work—or going home. “Still, of course, it is possible. The sense of publicity, of people coming and going about them, kept them both unemotional. "The pocket-book you prigged contained the letters I wanted. “I’m just off, aunt,” said Ann Veronica. In another minute, the tramp of horses' feet told that the perpetrators of the outrage had effected their escape. ’ ‘Only a few minutes, miss. Sheppard, distractedly.
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