Surely he was imagining this picture. Rhea went down, screeching and clawing at the air for the sword, which clanked heavily on the ground. "Manuscripts! Why, this chap is a writer, or is trying to be. ‘You! Tell this fool who is the keeper here to come to me at once. You have somewhere to go to in London, I hope. He addressed her by that title, and something in the tone disturbed her. It was John Diedermayer, who had been transformed into a young scholar with a large pair of wire-rimmed eyeglasses on. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth.
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