It is queer how ideas pop into one's head. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. ‘Tell me about the convent? Were you happy there? They were kind to you, the nuns?’ ‘Oh, but yes. "What is he gone there for?" "With a message to the turnkey to look after his prisoner," replied Wild, with a cunning smile. ‘Who telled you that?’ ‘Do not ask me impertinent questions, but only go you and fetch this daughter here to me. They were loath to admit to the public that the case would be closed in a few years for sheer lack of forensic evidence. Do not slight my warning. ” “I had some unexpected business,” Courtlaw answered shortly.
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