The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. “After all, why should he be surprised?” she remarked. But next moment, Captain Roding put up her back. ‘Um—begging your pardon, sir, but—um—what was you meaning to arrest the young lady for?’ ‘Trespassing, theft, and suspicion of spying,’ announced Roding fluently. " "No," answered the ruffian, moodily. The thing is done. Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked. ” “Your husband,” he answered bluntly.
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