It had ceased raining, but the atmosphere was moist and chill, and the ground deluged by the recent showers. . In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. ” “By God!” said Manning, making the most of the word, “I suppose it’s fate. And don’t tell me what you’ve been up to, dashing off to Remenham House with that Kimble lad, and Lord knows what besides, because I don’t want to know. I know very well Gerald has been fishing for information about that girl, and I am determined to find out what he knows. I have counted you, and always hoped to count you, the best of my friends. Running his hand carefully over it in search of the lock, he perceived to his dismay that it was fastened on the other side.
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