CHAPTER 22At the end of the street he saw the sudden light from the door of the Old Angel as it opened and closed on Lady Atwater’s tiny figure. He felt a little twinge in the bottom of his heart for his determined countrywoman. Lady Atwater, he imagined, would not be the simplest foe a person could have, when once she’d made up her mind. And there was no doubt in Mr. Pinkerton’s mind that what she had stopped in the middle of saying, when Sally Bruce had spoken about the detectives, was that she’d wondered how Pamela Atwater came to know so much about her. There was no doubt also that she would put that on an even lower level than picking up the paper out of her son’s fireplace and reading it.
Mr. Pinkerton hurried along the wintry street. He didn’t envy Mrs. Darcy Atwater, he didn’t ind
