” “Sir John is an ass!” he declared. Anna tore it open and passed it to Courtlaw. I’ll go after them and kill him. Monsieur is going inside perhaps?” But Sir John’s eyes were still riveted upon the poster, and his heart was beating with unaccustomed force. She inhaled a deep breath of air—London air. E. Hadn’t the stomach to admit the truth, had he? I’ll lay any money he labelled you with some foul French name as well. “Perhaps,” he queried, “you wish to avoid being seen about with any one—er— connected with the profession, under present circumstances. Rhea went down, screeching and clawing at the air for the sword, which clanked heavily on the ground. She had tried him as a Crusader, in which guise he seemed plausible but heavy—“There IS something heavy about him; I wonder if it’s his mustache?”—and as a Hussar, which made him preposterous, and as a Black Brunswicker, which was better, and as an Arab sheik.
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