His name is carved upon a beam up stairs. Wood will be intercepted. “Tiffany’s?” He looked at her comically. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. ‘Who the devil is Leonardo?’ demanded Roding impatiently, asking the question that had leapt into the major’s mind. Jack's nose was broad and flat; Darrell's straight and fine as that of Antinous.
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