What sort of proof? There are no papers at Remenham House. ’ ‘Indeed?’ Gerald said politely. It was cheating, pitiful cheating. It’s that father of yours you take after, no question. "Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. “You see, dear, one IS passionately anxious for something—what is it? One wants to be CLEAN. ” “If it were all true,” he said doggedly, “it may still be possible. His letter of credit; probably that was it; and, observing the strangeness of the room he was in, his first concern on returning to consciousness would naturally relate to his letter of credit.
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