See paragraph 1. ‘While you are making me this interrogation, my poor Jacques bleeds to death. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. ‘But how did she meet such a person in a convent?’ ‘He was wounded and came there for sanctuary,’ Gerald explained, adding almost through his teeth. He glanced at Miss Klegg again, and spoke quickly and furtively, with eager eyes on Ann Veronica’s face. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. "By all means," returned Wood; "don't delay an instant.
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