They turned off at Glen Grove, a sleepy town of less than two hundred. She slipped down the perfunctory flight of stairs, short because of the home’s split-level style. He walked on for an hour longer, till he could scarcely drag one leg after another. She recognized him as the man who had blundered into the wrong room. Confidence in himself would strengthen him. It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. An audible crack sounded in the kitchen and Mark slumped backwards, unconscious. " "You believe—you know it," replied Jonathan, fixing one of his sternest and most searching glances upon him.
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