But you must not imagine me wrapped in melancholy. From beginning to end it was first-hand stuff. ” “Perhaps I don’t. ’ ‘The what, miss?’ asked Kimble, frowning. “I don’t know how to prove myself to you, John. I think that WAS decision. You do not believe me. The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view.
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