’ ‘I see now how it was that Marthe knew of the secret passage,’ Melusine said. . ’ ‘It’s no use blaming me, Gerald,’ uttered Roding, shrugging helplessly as his senior turned questioning eyes on him. Better to remain silent. Anna found herself next Sydney Courtlaw, with his friend close at hand. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. Everett’s gaze dropped to the papers in his hand.
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