It was past seven when she got back to her hotel. Wood strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the flying skiff. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. Then she came a few steps to meet him. Lord Charvill’s sense of justice would not, however, allow him to repudiate his granddaughter, if indeed this female proved to be the infant lost to the family so many years ago. ‘And that Suzanne, the sister of my cousin the vicomte, must choose between Monsieur Charvill and her brother. Talked about his years, his position and his constituents, and always sneaked off back to his hotel just when the fun was going to begin. You will find proofs of the bloody deed in his room. “You poor thing.
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