“Frightful lot of things aren’t settled,” said Ann Veronica. ‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again. Then to Martin's brandy-shop, in Fleet Street. Roused by Ben's warning, the carpenter looked up and could just perceive the dusky outline of the bridge looming through the darkness, and rendered indistinctly visible by the many lights that twinkled from the windows of the lofty houses. “He is addressing a meeting of his constituents somewhere,” Annabel answered. ” Courtlaw crossed the room and threw open the door.
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