“Who are you—Annabel Pellissier or her ghost?” Anna laughed. She no longer felt sick or dizzy, her muscles returned to a relaxed, supple state. Selling out of the Army to take up his inheritance had spelled boredom to Gerald Alderley. It probably had its own repulsive oubliette in the bottom, where tiny princesses could fall and break their necks. “I am going to break a covenant,” he cried. But if you do not leave this room I must. “Your name and address were upon an envelope found in the pocket of an Englishman who was brought here late last night suffering from serious injuries,” he said in a dry official tone. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. But she did not speak. He roused curiosities. She found herself looking sheepishly around the bedroom when a sudden tingle of electricity moved from her groin, fanning out from her belly. His father and mother are gone now. Not far from him was a knot of lads drinking, swearing, and playing at dice as eagerly and as skilfully as any of the older hands.
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