You shall hear from me to-morrow. ” He looked interrogation with a faint smile. "Where did I hear that before?" "Perhaps that first day, in the water-clock tower. ‘Stand where you are, or I shoot!’ Like lightning, thoughts zipped through her mind. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. Ennison’s manner was certainly not one of a willing host. ‘Jacques?’ she called out, forgetting the need for silence. The two hostlers, however, kept close at his heels; and Jack, whose strength began to flag, feared he could not hold much longer. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. She turned away from the doorway of the silk loom to observe.
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