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. “You did not tell me that you were going out, or I would have offered my escort. But at least it gave her more time. Journeying blindly half way across the world, this man had found his quarry. ” “I don’t know who you are,” Ennison said quietly, “but you are a thundering liar. The Ragged Edge. ‘No sense in snooping about down here,’ Gerald whispered. “Poor Lucy!” Cathy exclaimed as she rushed in the door, umbrella sheathed.
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