“Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. Why don’t I just go and get the key from Pottiswick?’ Alderley flicked a glance back at him over his shoulder. Sheppard. ‘I’m following a scent. Opening the trap-door, he then descended to the vaults —searched each cell, and every nook and corner separately. If she could not marry him, she would not marry any one. The Master of the Mint was accompanied by another gentleman almost as portly as himself, and quite as deliberate in his movements. There must be real Valjeans, else how could authors write about them? Supposing some day she met one of these astonishing creators, who could make one cry and laugh and forget, who could thrill one with love and anger and tenderness? Most of us have witnessed carnivals. It was hard to resist. Sheppard, whose maternal fears drew her in another direction, hurried off to the Mint.
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