“Can you spare me a moment?” he asked. ‘He isn’t Valade, and the Comtesse de St Erme is absolutely furious. The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica. His suspicions at first fell upon you. She could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes. Well, my dear, it is time you stopped wallowing in your sorrows like a common wretch. Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously. "Hold!" interposed Thames, "he can do no more mischief. Melusine, starved of colour for years, revelled in it. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. "You will act most in accordance with her wishes, could she dictate them, by compliance.
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