Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. Never mind. ‘Comment? What do you say?’ Gerald looked down into her face, and found himself touched by the uncertainty he saw there. He was brooding over her, she could sense it, and the shadowy circles around his lovely dark eyes bespoke a terrible ongoing insomnia. The thief-taker's throat was bound up with thick folds of linen, and his face had a ghastly and cadaverous look, which communicated an undefinable and horrible expression to his glances. What of Gosse, whom those soldiers had allowed to escape? Hiding—or perhaps gone.
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