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He leaned towards her, laid his hand tenderly upon hers. ‘I don’t want a list of all the nuns resident in your wretched convent. The key's in the lock, on the inner side. Vaguely she heard the distinctive sound of male voices as she saw Gosse dive towards the fateful pew. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. Run along now; but return in half an hour. “I had found her at last, and she shot me. ‘He isn’t Valade, and the Comtesse de St Erme is absolutely furious.
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