The door opened. ‘You see, unlike you, mademoiselle, your cavalier here would not wish to be arrested. Leonardo he was my—’ ‘Don’t say it,’ Gerald cut in hoarsely. “The things involved in it are,” he answered gravely. As though accidentally she swept her skirts from a chair close drawn to her own. “Want to see the upstairs?” “Sure. He’ll never ask because I’m not in with those people, you know? Well, I guess John Diedermayer might have some connection, but, I certainly don’t. I had a hunch. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard.
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