At last his voice came to release her tension. ‘Yes, th-there it is,’ she uttered, stumbling a little over the words. I've despatched him to the New Prison. Panic leapt into his eyes as he brought his wrist up just in time to parry the blade. The lady reseated herself, watching him expectantly. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. I believe it amused him. “I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house.
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