Stanley, and was so evidently pleased that Ann Veronica’s heart smote her. They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. Sir John, who was standing outside, looked past him at the girl still sitting in the shadow. Arrived at the audience-chamber, he set down the light upon a stand, threw open the door, and announced in a loud voice, but with the perfect intonation of the person he represented,—"Sir Rowland Trenchard. At any rate she must see me. A sound sleeper, she was not roused by the creaky openings and closings of drawers as Lucy packed a single duffle bag with underwear and soap that was pilfered from a multipack of Zest in the Beck’s downstairs bathroom. Believe me, Anna.
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