In her sitting-room I found Montague Hill. Then she was out of the door and running, fast. ’ ‘Between the devil and the deep blue sea, he were,’ agreed Pottiswick’s daughter. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. Sharples received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed to subsist, and then closed and barred the door. “The fellow seems to know your name, Miss Pellissier, and that you have lived in Paris. “Is that you, Nigel?” she asked. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. ‘You are really not helping matters, my friend. ‘A word, if you please, my friend.
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