The girl suppressed a chuckle that would have been inexplicable. ‘Because she, naturally enough, does not consider that it is in any way my affair. “I suppose all life is an affair of chances. You were with your mother, the two of you huddled like thieves, laughing at the silly women who tried to shield themselves from rain by cowering under empty baskets and shawls. There is a button loose on that coat under your pillow. But after a time I learned the ways of the parrakeets, and they would come down to me like doves in the stories. You have been seen loitering with suspicious intent in several places—Paddington, for instance—and I have no doubt at all that you were party to a break-in last week at Remenham House in Kent. ” “I am staying,” she answered coolly, “at a small boarding-house near Russell Square.
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