She would never, never go back. “Quite an unimportant one,” he assured her. “Everything will follow,” she said. Hill closed his eyes. Detention would mean coming home late, which spelled distraction and trouble on the night of a kill. Having now sealed his letter, Sheppard took a handkerchief, and tying it over Shotbolt's face, so as completely to conceal the features, clapped his hat upon his head, and pushed it over his brows. He breathed a little sigh of satisfaction. He had forgiven everybody. If only she had thought to plunge the scissors into her own heart! Hoddy … to return and find her either gone or dead! But even as the Wastrel's arms gathered her, there came the sound of hurrying steps on the veranda.
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