She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. She liked the animated eagerness of his manner. If only monsieur le baron had said nothing, or perhaps instead accepted the couple as the Valades and agreed to help them. “Veronica!” cried Miss Stanley, warningly, and, “Peter!” For a moment they seemed on the verge of an altogether desperate scuffle. Still, here we are in this dingy, foggy city. He worried me to marry him. A handy knife, and a good tot of something sharp to clean out the wound. ‘You did not find Gosse, that is seen, but—’ ‘Gosse? Gosse? Who’s this here Gosse then?’ ‘He is the Frenchman of whom I told you. . . “Read this, John. Come close to me, and let me hold your hand, dear.
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