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Quilt's manner, indeed, was that of a man endeavouring to muster up sufficient resolution for the commission of some desperate crime. Before she passed out she turned and faced Sir John. Her arms and feet were uncovered, and of almost skeleton thinness. ‘Um—begging your pardon, sir, but—um—what was you meaning to arrest the young lady for?’ ‘Trespassing, theft, and suspicion of spying,’ announced Roding fluently. ‘One thing at a time, missie. “I want a vote for myself,” she said. I’ve tried to use my authority. Ennison!” He released her. The hansom sped through the crowded streets.
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