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O'Higgins eyed it thoughtfully. There was a lock, apparently more than a foot wide, strongly plated, and girded to the door with thick iron hoops. Annabel saw it, and suddenly changed her tone. It was hard to meet that gaze. She even had books by H. Borne in the arms of a couple of assistants, and preceded by Mrs. Courtlaw sat with folded arms. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. A dozen words, and he saw Enschede as clearly as though he stood hard by in the flesh.
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