On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture. And some were adorned with engravings that struck her as being more vulgar and undesirable than anything she had ever seen in her life. “You are absurd,” she declared. She asked no further questions for the moment. Ah Cum before the day was over, slyly baiting him. There’s hardly a night she doesn’t sneak out of the house. Thieves and pickpockets are his constant companions. I tell you I’m Meysey Hill, the railway man. I must have been very wound up. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. You have been seen loitering with suspicious intent in several places—Paddington, for instance—and I have no doubt at all that you were party to a break-in last week at Remenham House in Kent. I told you that at the outset.
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