Sara Darnell was a sprightly, svelte twenty-five year old who was known for serving detentions at meter maid frequency, if only to be taken marginally more seriously by the predominantly male Lincoln High Science Department. At one time, she determined to go to Wych Street, and ask Mr. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. Anyhow, she’s disappeared for some reason or other. Ramage, that iron-gray man of the world, appeared dressed in a bowler hat and a suit of hard gray, astride of a black horse. It began to rain, a cold sweat of precipitation that was more sickly than refreshing. But after all, what did it matter whether she had secrets or not? To him she was not a woman but a symbol; and one did not investigate the antecedents of symbols. Unless—would he hide from them as he had hidden from her? It was a big house, he said.
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