She heard the rats scattering across the stone as dirt fell into the crypt. . . ” “You mean—you think——” “Hush! I think that he was concealed in my room, and Annabel and he met there. To simplify matters, he carried a coloured paper lantern upon which his license number was painted in Arabic numerals. Jack was not half your age when he died. Spurling, as if struck by a sudden idea. “We were good friends in Paris, weren’t we? You made me all sorts of promises, we planned no end of nice things, and then—without a word to any one you disappeared.
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