“There is some mystery about you both,” he exclaimed, with sudden earnestness. As the secret door opened, the sounds within the house came at once to her ears: the tramping of feet above, and the hoarse voices echoing through the mansion. Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently. Jackson, I could almost fancy we had met before. A thousand eager assistants pressed behind him. By the side of her plate was a small key. Deny me, if you please. There she sought and at last found 107A, one of those heterogeneous piles of offices which occupy the eastern side of the lane. I have said good-bye to it all. 92 She did not notice the police car sitting near the Beck house until they were pulling into the driveway.
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