She saw, twenty yards down the platform, the shiny hat and broad back and inimitable swagger of Ramage. Bordered by fine timber, the road occasionally offered glimpses of a lovely valley, until a wider opening gave a full view of a delightful and varied prospect. They will find me dead, yes. In the present case it did not matter, as there was no one else within earshot. ‘Sergeant Trodger is who I am. Hadn’t the stomach to admit the truth, had he? I’ll lay any money he labelled you with some foul French name as well. Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play.
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