’ ‘Ah, so that’s where Valade comes in,’ nodded Lucy. She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. A hansom stopped a little way off. "Suppose he does. " Neither man spoke. She clenched her hands together and leaned forward in her chair, gazing steadily into the fire. Trenchard glanced at the document. And this damning evidence―’ with a brusque gesture at the portrait ‘―must also be destroyed. She would be haunted by the visions of their mad faces in her dreams for the next hundred years. He did not explain what had happened to her. The carte de jour was before Monsieur. . Doubts began to rise up all about her, plucking at her confidence.
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