Suddenly, without the least warning, something from above fell with a flop almost at her feet. Loraine stooped to pick it up. It was a brown paper packet, loosely wrapped. Holding it, Loraine looked up.

There was an open window just above her head, and even as she looked a leg swung over it and a man began to climb down the ivy.

Loraine waited for no more. She took to her heels and ran, still clasping the brown paper packet.

Behind her, the noise of a struggle suddenly broke out. A hoarse voice: “Lemme go”; another that she knew well: “Not if I know it⁠—ah, you would, would you?”

Still Loraine ran⁠—blindly, as though panic-stricken⁠—right round the corner of the terrace⁠—and slap into the arms of a large, solidly built man.

“There, there,” said Superintendent Battle kindly.

Loraine was struggling to speak.