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In this spy theory, however, he had no faith whatsoever. CHAPTER THE THIRD THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS Part 1 Two days after came the day of the Crisis, the day of the Fadden Dance. The poor things! Oh, it was quite dreadful. ‘Sapristi,’ he gasped. As soon as dinner was over she went into the kitchen and devoted herself to compiling a tray—not a tray merely of halfcooled dinner things, but a specially prepared “nice” tray, suitable for tempting any one. I completed it according to the directions, you see, and it was a beautiful machine, a triangle sort of, with a steering column I built out of an old wheelbarrow and a hubcap. He had spoken impressively, and most likely Anna, had she reappeared, would have met with a fair reception. You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. But the mere recognition of his son’s signature was enough to stoke the fires of his long-held rage.
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