Oblige me by acting under my guidance in the matter, Sir Rowland. He was ruffled, and his ears were red, no doubt from some adjacent controversy. “I’m damned if I’ll believe it,” he muttered to himself savagely. But first, we’ve got to secure the convent. Upstairs, in the little dressing-room, the panel was opened by means of tugging a small candlesconce in the wall. The late afternoon, en effet. He found the door ajar, and, to his surprise, perceived little Winifred seated at a table, busily engaged in tracing some design upon a sheet of paper.
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