There was something fatalistic about the letter H. Let me keep you from that man’s clutches. F. Would she ever find it? Sighing, she opened the door to the next room, and drew back the drapes. One point was that she was to wear fancy dress in the likeness of a Corsair’s bride, and the other was that she was to spend whatever vestiges of the night remained after the dance was over in London with the Widgett girls and a select party in “quite a decent little hotel” near Fitzroy Square. Darkness closed in on them as the officers stepped inside the musty interior. Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once.
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