She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. "We were close upon him when he suddenly disappeared. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. She brought the unconscious man down. Hogarth," remarked Jack, dejectedly. “I really had not thought about it at all,” Anna answered smiling.
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