It was still possible the child might be in safety. He did not have to. Practically all. She was supposed to be reading at home, and after breakfast she strolled into the vegetable garden, and having taken up a position upon the staging of a disused greenhouse that had the double advantage of being hidden from the windows of the house and secure from the sudden appearance of any one, she resumed the reading of Mr. Give him this letter, child, and bid him take it to the Lodge at Newgate without loss of time. “How gratified she must have been! If only I had known I would have made an effort to get home in time for dinner. She had first picked up the fiddle back when it was still called a viol, that was how long she had been at it. “You love some one else?” he repeated.
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