She could think of nothing more to say. Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. I have proofs of many things that can endanger you. Made me fetch up Trodger and a couple more men, and together we searched his luggage and got hold of every single paper the man possessed. The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance of the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds; the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around communicated a calm to her wounded spirit. But to-day he did not get beyond half a dozen desultory start-offs. The Enschede Bible—the one out of which she read—had been strangely mutilated. Annabel believed it, came to England and married Sir John. He rambled in an unfortunate monotone, the result of his innate fear of public speaking.
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