I picked up her handkerchief on the floor. [Illustration: Distinctive Pictures Corporation. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. On a high chair behind a raised counter the stipendiary’s substitute regarded her malevolently over his glasses. He loved Ann Veronica, he said; he was so mad to have her that he defeated himself, and did crude and alarming and senseless things. . Taking the direction pointed out, he rode off. She was beauty, the key of magic, the teacher of spells, the predictor of wars, and the gate of the future. She seemed to have no idea whatever of the emotional states that were becoming to her age and position. I said to myself at once, ‘Either this is a coincidence or the caper sauce. It could not go on much longer, her luck.
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