At this juncture, and just as a cuckoo-clock in the corner struck sis, Jack Sheppard walked into the room, with the packing-case under his arm. She took a deep breath. “You met no one upon the stairs, or saw no one leave the flats?” “No one,” Anna answered firmly. “Sold again,” she remarked. I must tell somebody—and you would understand. Capes was an exceptionally fair man of two or three-and-thirty, so ruddily blond that it was a mercy he had escaped light eyelashes, and with a minor but by no means contemptible reputation of his own. Ruth, standing by, heard his true laughter for the first time.
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