She and Courtlaw drove homewards together. "Don't alarm yourself about him, Sir," replied Austin. She started at the falling of a leaf, at the lumbering of a cow through the hedge. . ’ ‘You wouldn’t,’ agreed Mrs Sindlesham. It was a neat, efficient-looking room, with a writing-table placed with a business-like regard to the window, and a bookcase surmounted by a pig’s skull, a dissected frog in a sealed bottle, and a pile of shiny, black-covered note-books. That she was provoked by his interference was obvious. In fiction you make the Chinese secretive, criminal, and terrible—or comic. For a few moments, Thames regarded the little girl through the half-opened door in silence.
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