The report of his detention caused an immense sensation. "You are no longer Thames Darrell," she said, casting her eyes rapidly over it; "but the Marquis de Chatillon. What matters it? My servant, he is wounded—and by a Frenchman, if you wish to make an arrest. The foremost, tall, clean-shaven, perfectly groomed, half extended his hand with a smile of recognition. Dashing through the open door, he crossed the Old Bailey, plunged into a narrow court on the opposite side of the way, and was out of sight in a minute, baffling all pursuit. ‘I knew I should find you still here. She was a very elegant young woman, slightly taller perhaps than her sister, and with an air of reserved strength underneath her quiet face and manner which Annabel may have lacked. Latterly I’ve been doing things. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket.
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