He breathed a little sigh of satisfaction. She climbed back into the window an hour before sunrise. Then Courtlaw looked across at her with a white puzzled face. ‘It does not matter to me if he comes or no, madame. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. "If you've a fancy for the girl, we might do it.
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