That is why you came here, isn’t it?’ ‘Alors, now we know who is the spy, Monsieur Gérard. "Where is my mother?" he added, regarding the knight with a searching glance. She and I were very close. ’ Speeding down the two flights of stairs, Gerald mentally thanked God that it was the practice of himself and Roding—in case of emergency, of which this was a prime example—to stable their horses at the posting inns all the way to London. Only how had they missed him? Were they imbecile? Or perhaps the mists had concealed him from them. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged.
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