Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. ‘Ah, grandpére. She cleaned everything, wiped every surface, mopped and scrubbed every last drop of blood. Aware that he should incur the thief-taker's bitterest animosity by what he had done, the watchman, whose wrath against Quilt Arnold had evaporated during the walk, thought it more prudent not to hazard a meeting with his master, till the storm had, in some measure, blown over. After the day in the library, he constantly demonstrated his affections; Gianfrancesco had never done that.
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