Panic leapt into his eyes as he brought his wrist up just in time to parry the blade. Dorling said deferentially. He sat up in his chair again, the colour came back to his cheeks. “It’s the centre of the intellectuals. The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea. The very sight of these impediments, would have appalled a less courageous spirit than Sheppard's—but nothing could daunt him. Ruth could not be told now. “I believe so. ‘But I have the pistol,’ Gerald pointed out. The lips were straight and pale, the chin aggressive, the nose indomitable. A doubt as to your dinner to-morrow would make you miserable to-night. The cook tried to ply her with spiced meat and fish soup. You, sir,” he added, turning to Brendon, “had better take my card round to the police station in Werner Street and ask that Detective Dorling be sent round here at once on urgent business. “Do?” “Are you prepared to do things for us? Distribute bills? Write letters? Interrupt meetings? Canvass at elections? Face dangers?” “If I am satisfied—” “If we satisfy you?” “Then, if possible, I would like to go to prison.
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