"Intruding!" echoed Mrs. A granddaughter of mine!’ The idiocy of this notion stuck in his craw and he could think of nothing else for a moment. ‘You will not believe any of my very clever lies. These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels. The Bach Cantata was played fairly well, Sebastian thought, for a lot of children. . I bound him up good and tight, stuffed his mouth with a length of rope, taped it shut. ‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door. And, anyhow, it doesn’t matter to us. It’s an instinct. “MY DEAR MISS PELLISSIER,— “To-morrow the six months will be up.
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