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" "What right have you to suppose this, Sir?" demanded Trenchard, sternly. ‘It does not matter to me if he comes or no, madame. She was quite unconcerned. Sheppard, faintly. ” So they went this time to the Rococo, in Germain Street, and up-stairs to a landing upon which stood a bald-headed waiter with whiskers like a French admiral and discretion beyond all limits in his manner. Why had he glanced up—quite in that way?. The Jacobite. But never would any so dishonour himself as to hand a fellow rogue over to the authorities.
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