The woman I wanted was another man's wife. Was she so fearful still? Roding shrugged and grimaced. The clever hostess having let fall that several distinguished guests from France would be present, the world had flocked to her doors to catch, like the gossip-hungry vultures they were, a glimpse of them. She had mentioned the address where she and her sister had lived. If and when Ray was ever found, she would be long gone and they would be unable to explain what had happened to him. Her companion was a portly handsome man, also dressed in a full suit of the deepest mourning, with the finest of lace at his bosom and wrists, and a sword in a black sheath by his side. When, by slow and toilsome efforts, he had arrived midway, something obstructed his further progress. She had taken care he should have this momentous talk with her on a garden-seat commanded by the windows of the house. "The feeling is dead within my breast. "The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood.
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