‘Lord, man, it’s only a scratch!’ Suddenly Gerald snapped his fingers. ‘Wait a minute, though. Proof? There is someone who might be willing to help. Why in heaven’s name didn’t I think of that before?’
‘What are you talking of?’
‘Never mind that now. I’ll have to make a visit out of town. But first, we’ve got to secure the convent. I’ll need you to go back to the barracks and fetch more men up to town. Not Trodger. We’ll leave him here, with a couple of others.’
‘Think Valade will come back here then?’
‘Melusine thinks so,’ Gerald said, pausing at the top of the stairs. He looked at his friend. ‘What would you do in Valade’s place?’
‘You mean, knowing that the girl was here and liable to queer my pitch?’
‘Precisely.’
‘Get rid of the wench,’ Roding said brutally.
Gerald’s chest tightened. ‘Yes, I thought you’d say that.’
‘Wouldn’t you?’
‘In Valade’s place, with so much at stake—and more perhaps than he thought, for if he goes to the lawyers he’s bound to find out about this house—’
Hilary said it for him. ‘You’d do the same.’
There was a silence. Abruptly, Gerald turned. ‘Come on. I’ve to collect my sword and hat, and then we must get back to London. Fast.’
Speeding down the two flights of stairs, Gerald mentally thanked God that it was the practice of himself and Roding—in case of emergency, of which this was a prime example—to stable their horses at the posting inns all the way to London. He had got here at speed by that means. By now the horses would be rested and he might go as swiftly back again.
But on arriving in the tattered saloon where he and Melusine had hidden, a shock awaited Gerald. One swift glance about the room, and a sensation of grim foreboding swept through him.
‘She knows what she’s up against. She’s taken my sword.’
***
The tapping for which Melusine had been waiting came at last. She sighed with relief. It was cramped even at the end of the passage. It was also cold, and dark, for there had been no time to light the lantern.
‘Jacques?’ she called.
‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door.
‘Then open it quickly.’
It was a wait of several minutes while Melusine chafed. She guessed Jack was having trouble finding the right piece of carving. At last the panel swung back into the library. Melusine grasped the hilt of the sword she had been carefully holding, and came out into the light.
‘Parbleu, but it is not comfortable in the least in there. Such a time that it takes for them to go.’
‘Only a few minutes, miss. I waited for them to get right out of the grounds. They went to the gate and stopped there, gabbed with their men, and didn’t even dismount. Then they rode off at speed.’
Melusine nodded. ‘Gérard will think that I have gone back to London. That is good.’
‘I still think you ought to have waited, miss. That there Frenchie didn’t look any too friendly to me.’
‘Certainly he is not a friend,’ Melusine agreed, ‘but he has gone, after all.’
‘Begging your pardon, miss, but I think as how you ought to go back to London,’ Jack ventured.
‘I will do so. But first,’ said Melusine with determination, ‘I will find that which I came to find. Everyone has gone away again, so that I can do so all alone.’
‘Alone, miss?’
‘Certainly alone. Do you not remember that this capitaine has heard us talking? You may believe that Gérard will not let the soldiers leave from the gate. If they come here to walk around, they will hear us. So you, Jacques, must go and wait for me with the horse. Only first you must find the lantern and light it again and leave it here, near the door, for me to find.’
‘But—’
‘Do not argue with me, but go at once,’ ordered Melusine swiftly, taking a high tone intended to subdue the independent spirit Kimble had lately shown himself to possess. She held out the foil. ‘And take you this sword. Stow it in the saddle, for I will take it with me.’
Kimble frowned direfully, staring at the weapon with its gold hilt and decorative pattern down the blade. Suspicion was in his face.
‘Where did you get that, miss?’
‘It is the sword of monsieur le major.’
‘How did you come by it? You didn’t steal it, did you?’
‘Certainly I did not steal it,’ said Melusine indignantly. ‘I have only borrowed it.’
‘What?’ squeaked Kimble. ‘But the major—’
‘The major can say nothing at all. Has he not himself taken my daggers and my pistol and my knife? Alors, he has given me back my pistol and one dagger,’ she conceded conscientiously, ‘which is a very good thing. And you need not fear that I shall not give back the sword when I have finished using it.’
