Earles drew out his cheque book. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. "Rowland, your violence is killing me," she returned, in a plaintive tone. The account of the discovery of Sir Rowland's murder filled Winifred with alarm; but when she learnt what had befallen Thames—how he had been stricken down by the thief-taker's bludgeon, and left for dead, she uttered a piercing scream, fainted, and would have fallen, if Jack had not caught her in his arms.
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