There was a pause, while the steel grey eyes sliced at her. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she panted, shifting wildly in his hold, so that he had all to do to keep her thus imprisoned. “Listen! There was a Meysey Hill in Paris, an American railway millionaire. She was a very elegant young woman, slightly taller perhaps than her sister, and with an air of reserved strength underneath her quiet face and manner which Annabel may have lacked. “Why don’t you?” “Well, it might mean rather a row. ‘I must see the lady who is my great-aunt. ‘Good. She must not show anything. These persons were Mr.
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