He was not, it seemed, the proper stipendiary at all, and there had been some demur to his jurisdiction that had ruffled him. “So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?” he remarked. Anna stood on the step and looked up and down the street for a hansom. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. That she was provoked by his interference was obvious. It will serve you out if I give her dagger back to mademoiselle, so that she can plunge it right into your chest. “Perhaps,” she said, “it is the London climate.
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