’ ‘Unless it is Captain Roding,’ put in Lucilla Froxfield from the curved back sofa on the other side of the fireplace. Wood, meantime, had not remained idle. What was to happen now? She turned to Roding quickly. She thought then that she had shaken off the man of the bulging blue eyes forever, but that night she found he followed her into her dreams. ‘Am I a fool? Can I blow off a head with a pistol which is not loaded?’ ‘She has a point,’ conceded Alderley, relaxing a little as amusement burgeoned again ‘Ten to one she is a French spy,’ burst from Roding.
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