The window was shortly after opened, and a rope ladder, with a lighted horn lantern attached to it, let down. She took the piece of paper and unfolded it in the safety of her lap. The red glare fell upon the slimy brick-work, and tinged the inky waters below. ‘So this is Pottiswick’s French spy. I could not have spoken to her. ‘But do you not see that he will come again? I think it is better if you, both of you, go and leave me here to find—’ She broke off, looking away. ‘It is excessively important that the horse comes with us. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. “But your hair,” he gasped. "Thank you," she said, and left the office. “This isn’t furtive,” said Ann Veronica.
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