He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. In her usual style, she interviewed him for his life and was pleased that he liked nothing more than to talk about himself. “Grail!” said Ann Veronica, and then: “Oh, yes—of course! Anything but a holy one, I’m afraid. ” “May I put you in a hansom?” he asked, lifting his stick. He had, for the most part, been correct. She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come.
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