He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. " Sheppard's name operated like magic on the crowd. " "Where—where?" cried Thames. Not the most stringent search, conducted all morning, turned up one solitary sheet. “I really do not believe,” he announced with satisfaction, “that any one would recognize me. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. ‘He isn’t Valade, and the Comtesse de St Erme is absolutely furious.
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