“I heard you speak of turning out a lady,” I said, looking straight at
him. “What did you mean by that?”
He hesitated, then reached into his pocket and produced that identical
crumpled ball of paper that Sir Robert had let fall on the counter. He
spread it out, and smoothed down the wrinkles. “Perhaps,” he murmured,
“I have make the mistake. It is too bad to think that the lady she can
not--”