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’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. Accepting his glass from the butler, Gerald glanced at Mrs Sindlesham and saw a dimple peep out. Danger, in the form he apprehended, was lurking outside: nor was he destined to enjoy long repose. “I want a plain word with you about all this. ‘Parbleu, the bullet is still inside you,’ Melusine guessed, remembering how the Mother Abbess had diagnosed Leonardo’s suffering when he had first come to the convent. The darkness prevented the carpenter from discerning the features or figure of the stranger; and the ceaseless din precluded the possibility of holding any communication by words with him.
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