There isn’t. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. "What proof have you of the truth of this story?" inquired Trenchard. Where the devil have you hidden all those weapons? Don’t tell me you’ve got ’em with you. “Some day,” she answered. One chance in a thousand, and that would be the girl. The next instant, he was launched into eternity! Scarcely had he been turned off a moment, when a man with swarthy features leapt into the cart with an open clasp-knife in his hand, and, before he could be prevented, severed the rope, and cut down the body. ’ Total bullshit, if you ask me. She was a woman now to the tips of her fingers; she had said good-bye to her girlhood in the old garden four years and a quarter ago.
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