The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view. Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. “We’re here to take your foster daughter down to the station to ask her a few questions sir. You do not know him. Here you are, young, sound, with a heart that will recover in no time, provided you keep liquor out of it. "Now, step this way, Mr.
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