Briefly, with a careless wave towards the couple, the comtesse presented them as Monsieur and Madame Valade. The open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night. ‘Tchah! So you’re the whelp’s girl, are you? Suppose you’ve nothing but that villainous French in your tongue. ’ ‘Ah, but I have a special reason for doing so this time. " Still the voice was without emotion; calm, colourless. Sheppard repressed the scream that rose to her lips, and both mother and son gazed with apprehension at the heavy figure of the thief-taker, which, viewed in the twilight, seemed dilated to twice its natural size, and appeared almost to block up the window.
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