A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. One chance in a thousand, and that would be the girl. She made a slow tour of the front of the house without success, and then started back along the rooms behind, dragging open the drapes each time to get just enough light to recognise what was on the walls. The spinsters were not kind; they were only curious because she was odd and wore a dress thirty years out of date. I have counted you, and always hoped to count you, the best of my friends. Pancras,” she directed, promptly.
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