He sat down on the sill of the open window, folded his arms, and stared straight before him for a long time over the wilderness of tiles and chimney-pots into a sky that was blue and empty. ‘We don’t know who she is. Saviour's Stairs. Perhaps the boys had already faced off and he had missed it, he thought sourly. The assassination, as you call it, was, obviously, the vengeance of a kinsman of the injured lady, who no doubt was of good family, upon her seducer. "Red apples and snow!" she sent back at him, her face suddenly transfixed by some inner glory.
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