And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. I didn’t dream, not even in my wildest dreaming, that—you might have any need of me. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. ‘Now,’ she said, in an imperious manner that so much reminded him of Melusine that he was obliged to suppress a grin, ‘I can see you properly. I have sinned deeply; but I have been sorely tried. I have been the vicomte’s secretary, remember. I wouldn't trust a Malay, not if he were reared in the Vatican.
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