. “He is addressing a meeting of his constituents somewhere,” Annabel answered. “I want to know who you are. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. He, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the pier, in the hope of reaching some of the windows and other apertures with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the bridge were pierced. ‘Did you see the man?’ Gerald asked. She looked steadfastly out. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud.
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