Rushing towards the entrance of the well-hole, Blueskin touched the secret spring. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. Until two hours ago she was as contented and as happy as a linnet. Her senses were prickled when she felt a new pair of eyes upon her. Part 4 At eight that evening Miss Stanley tapped at Ann Veronica’s bedroom door. You understand me, Charcoal.
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