When she was quite sure that he was gone she took her sister’s note from the mantelpiece and slowly broke the seal. Never had he been so intrigued. She grew perhaps a shade paler, and she glanced out into the street, where her four-wheeler cab, laden with luggage, was still waiting. “Only—I have come face to face—with something terrible, and wholly unexpected trouble. ’ ‘No, you are a gentleman,’ she agreed. It was a bizarre sight, a miniature manor, replicated fully, walled in gray limestone. She thought of Capes. “Are you A, B, C, or D?” he asked. Her relationship with John had made her the object of desire for scores of teenage boys who had dared not previously think of her in such a way. What of Gosse, whom those soldiers had allowed to escape? Hiding—or perhaps gone. That was Leonardo’s motto. All the world before you, all the ologies.
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