What’s that?” They both stood listening. She was in a very uncritical state that afternoon. Austin departed, and presently afterwards returned with the two subordinate officers, each of whom wore a leathern apron round his waist, and carried a large hammer. They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne. “You could have a talk to Miss Kitty Brett this afternoon, if you liked. “Never—but, by Jove, you had a narrow escape,” Ennison exclaimed.
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