‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified. At length, about three o'clock, as the first glimmer of dawn became visible through the barred casements of the round-house, the rattling of bolts and chains at the outer door told that some one was admitted. "All right," replied Sheppard, with affected indifference. Eyebrows knitting, she looked towards the ground a few feet away from him, guiltily. There was a Greyhound bus that she was overdue to ride. The manager had sketched the girl's character, or rather had interpreted it, from the incidents which had happened since dinner. There were groves of cultivated guava, orange, lemon, and pomegranate. It has all been a mistake. Turning, she flew for the nearest door.
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