“I think we might——” I said.
“Yes,” said the Canon. “In fact we must.”
We moved together across the platform toward the porter’s barrow, on which Lalage’s trunk lay.
“I should like to see the article,” I said, fumbling with the strap.
“It isn’t so much that,” said the Canon. “Somebody is sure to unpack her box for her to-night, and if Miss Pettigrew came on the thing and read it——”
“She would be prejudiced against Lalage.”
“I’d like the poor child to start fair, anyhow,” said the Canon, “whatever happens later on.”
We unpacked a good many of Lalage’s clothes and came on the second number of the Anti-Cat. Lalage took possession of it and turned over the pages, while the Canon and I refolded a blue serge dress and wedged it into its place with boots.
“Here you are,” said Lalage, when I had finished tugging at the straps. “‘Sneaking, Second Example. The Latest Move of Cattersby. Such a move! A disgrace to any properly run society, a further disgrace to the already disgraceful tactics of the Cat! How even that base enemy could do such a thing is more than we honourable citizens can understand.’”
“The other honourable citizen,” I said, “is Tom Kitterick, I suppose.”