In her little sitting-room she turned on the electric light and looked around half fearfully. She cut a deep gash into her own arm with a steel screw, loosing drops of her own blood onto the floorboards. Either ignorant of the accident, or heedless of it, the foremost horseman pursued his way without even turning his head. But her great-aunt was nodding, as if this was what she had expected. Very well. Then she passed from the room on the arm of General Lord Charvill, chatting animatedly to him. The swellings appeared under her arms and a general panic spread through the Palazzo. ‘Well, I can see you won’t let it alone, so what do you propose to do about the wench?’ ‘I’ll die before I let it alone,’ Gerald vowed. ‘You heard Gosse—I mean, the man you know as Valade?’ ‘Clear as day, miss,’ he uttered.
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