"I had no thought of injuring your wife, and would have died rather than commit so foul a crime. But they’ve just been to see General Charvill. She got up, drew up her blind, and stared out of window at a dawn-cold vision of chimneys for a time, and then went and sat on the edge of her bed. One glance swept across the place and it was immediately apparent that Pottiswick had not, this time, been mistaken. Good and Evil. “Yes, I will go,” she promised, with a queer little smile. "Will he consent, to be searched?" inquired Jonathan. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction.
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