*** Gerald vaguely noted that his junior leapt to his feet at sight of his former commander, and that Lucilla sat with her mouth at half-cock, dread in her face. Smith's solitary orb followed in the same direction. He nodded silently, too full for words. I’ve to collect my sword and hat, and then we must get back to London. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. Bowing to the stranger, the woollen-draper very politely requested to know his business. She appeared not to have realised the implications of her outburst, but clung a little to Gerald’s hands which had taken hers in a comforting clasp.
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