‘But Gérard—if you mean the fellow Alderley who was making eyes at Yolande—is not here. “Better,” said Ann Veronica, with an unreal alacrity. 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. I’m glad you’re back for all sorts of reasons. ‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment. How she needed him! Next moment, she had wrenched open the door, and was confronting her guard. Courtlaw opened his lips, but remained silent in the face of her imperative gesture. And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it.
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