’ Speeding down the two flights of stairs, Gerald mentally thanked God that it was the practice of himself and Roding—in case of emergency, of which this was a prime example—to stable their horses at the posting inns all the way to London. She hesitated about her name, and, being prompted, gave it at last as Ann Veronica Smith, 107A, Chancery Lane. ’ ‘Dieu du ciel,’ burst from mademoiselle as she jumped up. She could not hide her face. Anna stared back at every one with undaunted composure. But Jack eluded their grasp. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. ” He said. Where is he?" "Within this room," replied the knight.
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