"Was that thunder?" he faltered, as a terrible clap was heard overhead. “Oh yes,” said Miss Klegg; “I thought every one knew. ‘You!’ ‘Yes, it is I, mademoiselle,’ he continued in his own tongue. How the deuce did I ever manage to father such a brainless nincompoop? A nun, for God’s sake! A confounded Catholic nun. Smith, he'll swing after next Old Bailey sessions. A woman has a perfect right to choose her own husband, but Nigel seemed to think that there was something a little mysterious about your treatment of him. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. ‘I knew you would be furious. ‘Well, sir, if I’ve to choose betwixt him and you, I’ll take you, no question. You, sir,” he added, turning to Brendon, “had better take my card round to the police station in Werner Street and ask that Detective Dorling be sent round here at once on urgent business.
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