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. ‘If it is that your men there are going to arrest us, then why do they not do so?’ ‘Left to myself, I’d let them,’ he replied grimly. Three short days. Her time and effort was justly rewarded, because the hard cold facts she knew about neighborhood intrigues were better than fictional soap operas. And the less “anything” happened the better. ” He stood still, looking at her. " "Are you man, or fiend?" exclaimed Trenchard, staring at the stranger, as he concluded his narration. But she made a pretence of struggling a little, for it would be out of character for her not to do so and she did not want to arouse his suspicions.
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