“I repeat, gentlemen,” he said, in an ominously low tone, “what of it?” Drummond shrugged his shoulders. " "Thank'ee,—thank'ee. It—it is nothing,’ she said, although with a tremor in her voice. You are my slave—and such you shall continue. ‘So this is Pottiswick’s French spy. ” She did not wait for Ann Veronica’s reply. The man’s statement was explicit, and spoken with confidence. You’d better not have all the money on you; you had better open a small account in the postoffice and draw it out a fiver at a time. Nothing shall induce me to act contrary to the dictates of my conscience. " He bent his head to his knees. Open the window, Thames, and call for assistance. I think not, Annabel.
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