It would be the culmination of her plan. What hotel should she go to? If she told a cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do—or say? He might drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet sort of thing she required. A moment before he had been a strong man, she had been in his power, a poor helpless thing. Nigel Ennison was he. ’ ‘But you mind that I say I do not trust you. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. As if he read her thought, he spoke it aloud.
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