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I do believe you 're the child was hurt at Maggs's Circus and taken to hospital." Tilda nodded. "Did you see me?" "Carried by on a stretcher and your face the colour of that." The woman pointed to the marble counter-top. "I was a serious case," said Tilda impressively. "The people at the Good Samaritan couldn' remember admittin' the likes of it. There were complications." "You don't say!"
"I don't know," miserably. "Was it very wrong to let me take the shawl to have it matched before I had paid for it?" "It's against the rules. People could steal things that way. But I knew you'd bring it right back." "That nasty old thing!" Arethusa leaned earnestly across the counter-top. "I'll buy two or three shawls. Would it be all right then?"
The old man drummed on the counter-top in the telegraph office, and then picked up a pad and wrote a wire to his assistant: "Cancel general order No. 13." The night man slipped out in the dawn and called the day man who was the station master, explaining that the old man was at the station and evidently unhappy.
Varkar was trying to be icily dignified; Sphabron Larv's black hair was in disarray and his face was suffused with anger. He was pounding with his fist on the plastic counter-top. "You have to!" he was yelling in the older man's face. "That's a public document, and I have a right to see it. You want me to go into Tribunes' Court and get an order?
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