"You can, of course, identify this picture as Lady Trafford's property?" pursued Jonathan, with a meaning glance, as he handed it to the knight. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. It is perfectly intrusive of me, and I quite see that you must be sick to death of running into such an interfering busybody all the time. He knew not how to act, urged as he was in two directions. ‘Gérard—’ ‘What now?’ he asked, rife with suspicion. “Troubles, my friend,” she exclaimed lightly.
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