Light the lantern. The jealous burn at his eyes subsided and his finger came up. Mr. Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf. I don’t know. It did seem germane to the matter that so many of the people “in the van” were plain people, or faded people, or tired-looking people. The lady reseated herself, watching him expectantly. Had he been listening inside? ‘What is amiss?’ ‘That Frenchie, sir. ” Ann Veronica closed the door quite softly and stood still. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her.
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