"What motive have you for concealment?" he demanded. ‘But what way, Emile?’ ‘Your family, mademoiselle, the family of your father. Pale, flesh-colored light filtered in through the corners of the house. "To the best of my belief, Thames Darrell has been murdered by you. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. Dunstable’s contributions to the conversation were entirely in the form of nods; whenever Alderman Dunstable praised or blamed she nodded twice or thrice, according to the requirements of his emphasis. But I do hope, Vee, I do hope—this is the end of these adventures.
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