It was the sing-song girl idea, magnified many diameters. He went over her features one by one in his mind. \"Nice to meet you. ” He shook her diminutive hand. But he looked back into the hall and spoke to the sergeant who could just be seen behind him. “I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house. And this was an adventure of which he had dreamed from boyhood: aboard a windjammer on the South Seas. All the rest is humbug and delicacy. But it was under false names, so I dare say it ain’t valid. That would be an unkind twist of fate. We’ve done nothing to deserve it.
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