Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year. "To-morrow I will take you to him. ‘Have you any more pretty toys like that knife about you?’ ‘The girl’s a regular arsenal,’ Hilary snapped, giving up into his senior’s hand the nasty little weapon he had snatched. Wood lifted up his hands in mute despair. At a little distance from the party, sat a tall, sinister-looking personage, with harsh inflexible features, a gaunt but muscular frame, and large bony hands.
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