” Chapter XXV THE STEEL EDGE OF THE TRUTH The manservant, with his plain black clothes and black tie, had entered the room with a deferential little gesture. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park. It is bad policy. She gathered up the chain, revealing a locket which had lain hidden in her bosom. The latter no sooner beheld him than he dashed hastily into an adjoining room. . "What's the matter?" demanded Jonathan, harshly. " "She cannot stay here," the manager declared. “You know,” he muttered, “you know quite well that your troubles are far more likely to weigh upon me than my own. "Too late, master," replied the landlord of the Trumpeter, in a surly tone, for he did not much like the appearance of his customer; "just shut up shop. The floor was strewn with screws, nails, fragments of wood and stone, and across the passage lay the heavy iron fillet. The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution. "The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood. She looked at him curiously. A brisk talk sprang up between Capes and Mr.
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