"Stop thief!" roared Jonathan, who perceived the fugitive hurrying along a street towards Hatton Garden. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. His anger gave way to grim humour and he thrust towards them, leaning heavily on his cane. ‘And it is me you dare accuse? It is yourself you should arrest. For although I must confess it reads very much like an application or a testimonial or some such thing as that, I can assure you I am writing this in fear and trembling with a sinking heart. "Yes; but what is good isn't always proper. Trust you. Servants were passing backwards and forwards with tea and chocolate.
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