Her eyes travelled eastwards along the ridge and stopped at the clump of Bishop's Ring which marks the crest of Duncton Hill, and the dark fold below where the trees flow down to Graffham.
"You ask me no questions," she said in a low, warm voice.

"I am very grateful." "I ask you one.

Where is Mario Escobar to-night ?" "At Midhurst," and she gave him the name of the hotel.
Martin Hillyard laughed.

Whilst the police were inquiring here and searching there and watching the ports for him, he was lying almost within reach of his hand, snugly and peacefully at Midhurst.
"But I expect that he will go from Midhurst now," Joan added, remembering his snarl of fear when the door had opened behind her, and the haste with which he had fled.
Hillyard looked at his watch.

It was one o'clock in the morning.
"You are in a hurry ?" she asked.
"I ought to send a message." He turned to Joan.