” Chapter XXVI ANNABEL IS WARNED “You!” David Courtlaw crossed the floor of the dingy little sitting-room with outstretched hands. You see, the horse it does not belong to me, nor to the nuns. ‘Do not look at me so,’ he snapped. Having secured this implement, he burst from his conductor, and, leaping into the hatch, as clowns generally spring into the clockfaces, when in pursuit of harlequin in the pantomime,—that is, back foremost,— broke into a fit of loud and derisive laughter, kicking his heels merrily all the time against the boards. “Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. The more her thoughts dwelt upon the subject, the more convinced she was that she could not go to any one for help; she would have to solve the riddle by her own efforts, by some future experience. The knight and his followers crossed the threshold, leaving one of the torch-bearers behind them.
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