‘But you said she was looking for proof. ‘I think it is better if I hold the pistol. Cheveney was looking after her, I think, then. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. Is there any truth, do you suppose, in this rumoured marriage?” “I know nothing,” Courtlaw answered hurriedly. “I have loved you,” he was saying, “ever since you sat on that gate and talked. The Night-Cellar.
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