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Through an open door was a glimpse of the bathroom—a vision of luxury, out of which Annabel herself, in a wonderful dressing-gown and followed by a maid presently appeared. Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. He tried to raise an outcry, but his throat was again forcibly griped by Rowland. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. Manning came into her thoughts again, an unexpected, tall, dark, self-contained presence at the Fadden. But where in the world was the girl? A door led to another chamber beyond.
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