" "Where are the assassins?" cried Sheppard. Gerald’s judgement was borne out a moment later. “I had found her at last, and she shot me. For a moment she too had started and faltered in her exit from the room. ‘Monsieur Charvill,’ pursued Valade, ‘has left the chateau, and since we have heard from him nothing at all, but for the letters to his daughter from Italy. “I have been amusing myself up to now by trying to earn my living,” she replied. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. Martha was quite right. Even given that he was hopelessly enamoured of the wench, a fact which was obvious to the meanest intelligence. ‘And then vanished into thin air,’ rejoined Hilary on a sardonic note.
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