‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. She went to a writing-desk and made some memoranda on a sheet of note-paper, and then remembered that she had no address as yet to which letters could be sent. Her eyes were wide open with amazement. “An uncle in New York is dead, and has left him loads of money. ” She changed the subject abruptly. Almost instantly she had recognized the fallacy of such a statement. Perhaps you will explain the state of panic into which I seem to have thrown you. She charged boldly into the space of Miss Miniver’s rhetorical pause.
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