Outside the door stood one of the soldiers. “It’s odd,” said Ann Veronica, re-entering the flat. He was still thickly clad in jeans. The thief-taker's throat was bound up with thick folds of linen, and his face had a ghastly and cadaverous look, which communicated an undefinable and horrible expression to his glances. He heard the struggle on the landing, the fall of the heavy body, the groan,—and excited almost to frenzy by his fears, he succeeded in forcing open the door. Suddenly a half stifled exclamation broke from Anna’s lips.
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