The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. Parbleu, but what grandfathers I have!’ It was stalemate, Gerald thought, irrepressible amusement leaping into his chest. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. ‘Of course the fellow has doubtless stayed put to wait for you,’ retorted Hilary. She had always wondered when they would start being able to trace her kills, with their expanding systems of criminal databases and computers, and now it was starting to happen. “Better state of mind,” she gasped. His fellow-prisoners nicknamed him the gallows-provider, from a habit he had of picking out all those who were destined to the gibbet.
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