“My dear friend,” she laughed, “not so tragic, if you please. Kneebone will excuse you. “Where am I?” he muttered. With trembling fingers she opened the post-bag. I had gone further than I meant to—with some Englishmen. I told him I would bring him to the gallows, and I was as good as my word. “Or I wouldn’t have said anything about it. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. “But you’re wrong. Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. But, answer me. This foster child’s name was Mary Lucia Iovelli, and we have photographic documents of a woman who looks exactly like you, dear. The doctor reached over and laid his hand upon Spurlock's heart. Until that moment, Jarvis had imagined the child to be safe in the wet-nurse’s cottage.
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