‘But I have the pistol,’ Gerald pointed out. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. He read "The Beachcombers" to McClintock that night after coffee; and when he had done, the old trader nodded. Remember ——” Annabel clutched her sister’s arm. Then the long lashes sank demurely over them. You cannot refuse me this. But, Gerald, do you believe there is a secret passage indeed?’ ‘Well, we covered every inch of the house and grounds, and I swear she never left that room by way of the door. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully. And then scratched it out and wrote instead, “Gérard”.
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