“You can’t imagine,” Sydney exclaimed, “that the people downstairs will be such drivelling asses as to believe piffle like that. “It’s odd—I have no doubt in my mind that what we are doing is wrong,” he said. ’ ‘True enough,’ nodded Martha sadly. They are tending to congregate, our poor French friends. ’ ‘Yes, that is Mr Brewis Charvill, as you have found out for me. The asylum was approached by a broad gravel walk, leading through a garden edged on either side by a stone balustrade, and shaded by tufted trees.
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