Listening on the dimlit landing, he saw Roding’s face muscles tighten. Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. My father has made every possible inquiry, and offered large rewards; but has not been able to discover the slightest trace of him. She looked at him mournfully.
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