When he came to a certain sentence in Brendon’s letter he stopped short and looked up at her. The lady, who was indeed stunning, Gerald suddenly realised, said never a word. He was more like a man who had left his bed in the middle of convalescence. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. Silk. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. “But it’s a long business.
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