” He stood still, looking at her. ‘What has that to say to anything?’ ‘Nothing at all,’ smiled Lucy nervously. I heard only after it was all over. All about her, hither and yon, lay the enticing Unknown. Her aunt did not object to capital punishment or war, or the industrial system or casual wards, or flogging of criminals or the Congo Free State, because none of these things really got hold of her imagination; but she did object, she did not like, she could not bear to think of people not having and enjoying their meals. “Turned out to be an impostor, too. You, sir,” he added, turning to Brendon, “had better take my card round to the police station in Werner Street and ask that Detective Dorling be sent round here at once on urgent business.
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