She turned there, clasped her hands behind her back and put up her chin. Sheppard repressed the scream that rose to her lips, and both mother and son gazed with apprehension at the heavy figure of the thief-taker, which, viewed in the twilight, seemed dilated to twice its natural size, and appeared almost to block up the window. Morningside Park had been passive and defective; all this rushed about and was active, but it was still defective. She jumped up at once, caught up a leather clutch containing notebooks, a fat textbook, and a chocolate-and-yellow-covered pamphlet, and leaped neatly from the carriage, only to discover that the train was slowing down and that she had to traverse the full length of the platform past it again as the result of her precipitation. “Too bad to keep you waiting,” Annabel exclaimed. “I had a visit from Sir John in my rooms,” she said.
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