As he slewed round with the query I heard another sound in the adjoining room.
"Oh, go ahead with your warrant, my Jessamy Justice! It tickles you and don't hurt me.

Shall I help you spell it ?" "I was thinking to ask you that favour," Mr.Rogers replied demurely.
"Your name, now ?" "Letcher--L.e.t.c.h.e.r--Sergeant, North Wilts Regiment." "Thank you--'Letcher,' you say?
Now I was on the point of writing it 'Leicester.'" In the dead silence that followed he laid down his pen, and with his hands behind him came slowly across the room and stared into Leicester's face.
"The game is up, my friend." Leicester met the stare, but his jaw and throat worked as though he were choking.

I thought he was trying to answer.

If so, the words refused to come.
Someone knocked at the door.
Mr.Rogers stepped to it quickly.

"That you, Jim ?" "Yessir." "Is Miss Brooks with you ?" He held the door a very little ajar--not wide enough to give sight of us behind him.
"Yessir.