Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear. Anna sprang to her feet and made for the dressing-room door. “Ferringhall, were you or were you not dining last night at a certain restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiennes with—la petite Pellissier?” Now indeed Sir John was moved. "Why not?" "I'll tell you," cried a deep voice from the back of the bed. "Thames would let himself in; and Jack generally finds an entrance through the backdoor or the shop-window, when he has been out at untimely hours.
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