His hands were exploring her once again in the car. A nod was exchanged. "It is addressed to my mother," he added, as his eye glanced rapidly over it, "and by my father. But I shall lose my wager if I stay a moment longer—so here goes. She looked at him confusedly, his black hair glinting under the dim lights. Her husband was drinking in the tavern with the other guests. By-the-bye, do you want any money? Sir John’s ideas of pin money are not exactly princely, but I can manage what you want, I dare say. At this moment, a door was opened below; lights gleamed on the walls; and the figures of Rowland and Sir Cecil were distinguished at the foot of the stairs.
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