. ’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease. ‘It is nothing at all of the kind. ‘Who, the émigrés?’ ‘Do I speak of the English, imbecile? Certainly the émigrés. ToC That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green. ’ It was thus in stony silence that the pair traversed the short distance to Stratton Street, where Roding knocked on the major’s door and entered a pleasant woodpanelled hall, with his prisoner firmly in tow.
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