\" \"It's Diedermayer. ” “Oh my goodness. Who but you would have dreamed of giving the boy such a name? Why, it's the name of a river, not a Christian. He had not had time to aim the pistol. She used his own gun against him, a method that was occasionally cleaner than slitting throats when she got it right. His name was Bartolomeo di Alberti. That's well. Drawing the pay of life and then not living. She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge. Gerald perhaps would know how to find him. " "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses.
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