He had his sections of the Siegfried map folded in his pocket, and he squatted up with his legs crossed like an Indian idol while she lay prone beside him and followed every movement of his indicatory finger. ‘Might have forgiven him,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘if he hadn’t taken the babe. “If you must go on with it,” said Hetty, “now’s your time. Beyond was a narrow bridge, crossing a circular building, at the bottom of which lay a deep well. The kindly faced landlady had failed to catch his name, and said he was a tall, handsome gentleman with a great black mustache. That did not sound like the name the young man had offered in the tower of the water-clock.
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