A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. Fame of any sort was folly and she knew better. The mighty concourse became for a moment still. Dunster shall fetch you a cab. “You know of no one likely to have had a grudge against this man?” he asked. ” “You came to tell me this?” “I came for you,” he declared fiercely. ” “Yes. ‘Mademoiselle.
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