97 “For what, kiddo?” Larry turned his head slightly to one side. He took up his hat and went. Lady Trafford uttered a prolonged scream, and fainted. Still silence everywhere. On Saturday he went to that there Mr Charvill’s house. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. ‘What a catalogue. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. In the little apartment, under the gas chandelier, his inches and his stoop were certainly very effective. "But I can guess what it's for.
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