“There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed. ‘Oh, my God, she’s gone!’ Wrenching his hand from his friend’s slackened grasp, he darted for the door, Roding behind him. " "Bring your story to an end, Sir," said Trenchard who had listened to the recital with mingled emotions of rage and fear. “Miss Ellicot!” Brendon echoed. She never touched the manuscript with pencil, but jotted down her notes on slips of paper and left them where he might easily find them. Spurlock has gone. ‘Um—begging your pardon, sir, but—um—what was you meaning to arrest the young lady for?’ ‘Trespassing, theft, and suspicion of spying,’ announced Roding fluently.
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