Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. “YOU wouldn’t like to be independent?” he asked, abruptly. Cathy appeared in her bathrobe. It was quite dark; but as some of the assemblage carried links, it was soon ascertained to be headed by the same party who had mainly incited the former disturbance. She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. And, as he quitted the room, the poor widow fell with her face upon the floor. His grip twisted her wrist. She gathered up the chain, revealing a locket which had lain hidden in her bosom. He paid the cab, and turned to follow her. Her mouth was once more covered as they left the second floor guest saloon and headed for the back stairs. The small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently backwards and forwards. ‘Pray you, mademoiselle, can you not—’ ‘No use trying to enlist Lucilla’s aid,’ snapped Roding.
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