"Is it poison?" she asked. He returned the locket without comment. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. So she went to Ramage and came to the point almost at once. For a few days she was fascinated by the place, exploring the moldy rooms, the weird treasures hiding in forgotten trousseaus. " Trenchard took up a pen. A deadly sickness came over her, the room seemed spinning round. Suddenly he understood what had happened. "I have him!" cried a voice in triumph.
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