‘Rather thought I’d have to disarm you when you heard of it. I have an idea that you are in some sort of trouble. But behind these things which you have said to me there must be others of which I know nothing. "What's that you're taking to Sir Rowland Trenchard's?" "Only a box, Sir," answered Sheppard, emptying the glass. Yes, I can readily believe it. Entering the house, he found himself in a narrow passage leading to the back stairs. And Lady Trafford having been carried down stairs, and placed within it, the postboy drove off, at a rapid pace for Barnet. He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver. And from that point they went on to a thoroughly embittering wrangle.
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