Mr Jarvis’s sister, that was. ’ ‘Unless it is Captain Roding,’ put in Lucilla Froxfield from the curved back sofa on the other side of the fireplace. That held his thought as the magnet holds the needle, inescapably. Yes, of course. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. In those revolutionary times one had to be prepared. E. Vorsack would staunchly disapprove of his attire, said nothing anyway. But the Remenhams in the days of Charles the First, with the need for an escape route from Cromwell’s increasingly victorious forces, had cut a trapdoor through its floor into the cellars below, and thence hewn the long rough passageway that led underground right outside the boundary of the estate. But I may yet live to thwart them.
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