One never knew when it would be necessary to resume her disguise. 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. That terrible laughter, just before his senses had left him! Why? Here was a word that volleyed at her from all directions, numbed and bewildered her: the multiple echoes of her own first utterance of the word. I like the way you shared it. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front.
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