‘It is all the fault of that lantern. “Hainault, Celeste’s friend. Next instant he had her immobilised, her hands behind her back, her chest crushed to his, the white veil slipping once again. It was a precious thing, a beautiful cabochon—do you know what that is?” “What’s a cabochon?” “It’s a precious jewel that doesn’t have facets yet. ‘How the deuce did she get out without me seeing her?’ ‘Took advantage of the distraction, cunning little devil,’ Gerald snapped, racing down the corridor. If he awoke and caught you at it, there might be a set-back. “Very well,” she would say, “then I must go. "But there's nothing more to see in Canton. ” The lady in black satin looked at the pile of luggage outside and hesitated.
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