" "It shall be, Sir," replied Ireton, bowing. It must be some days before you can arrange for her to make an identification. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. ‘Grace à vous, I am compelled to rescue myself. The knots and broken pale that made the garden-fence scalable, and gave access to the fields behind, were still to be traced. She waited a few minutes, then greeted the burly doorman who stood as the building’s lone sentry. She herself, and one other there, recognized the interposition of something akin to tragedy. She was delivered home by 11:30pm.
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