It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. ” “You know all?” “Your sister has told me. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her.
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