" Downstairs he sought the hotel manager. “You’re self-taught, aren’t you, Lucy?” She looked around the table, all eyes upon her. She was sorry to find Ramage a little disposed to be melancholy. ‘Parbleu, you waste time. Remember that I’ve seen Brewis Charvill, and I’m well aware of your identity. She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her.
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