He was halfway across the ballroom, where the dancing had ceased for the musicians to take a well-earned rest, when Roding pounced on him. Probably some woman on the loose; they were as thick as flies over here—dizzy blondes. ‘But you have told them that I have been disguised, no? That I have broken into Remenham House, and—’ ‘No, no, child, don’t be alarmed,’ said her great-aunt, her tone soothing. ‘You do not use your head, Emile,’ she said flatly. Inside was the blue stone she had lost in the 1800’s. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. " Almost the identical words of the boy.
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