As concertmaster, it was Lucy’s duty to seat the orchestra as well as tune them. "Ay, Sir, from the Secretary of State, for your arrest! You're charged with hightreason. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. Annabel thought, and thought again. Lucy blushed from toes to forehead, feeling her pace accelerate. “I’m ready,” said Ann Veronica, closing her microscope-box with a click, and looking for one brief instant up the laboratory. “It is unimportant,” she said. They moved fast.
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