“No, Lucy, because Satan does not exist. . The tiles lay a foot thick in the road. ” “Then, whoever he may be, he is not Meysey Hill,” Courtlaw said. “You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it deserves, Ferringhall,” he remarked. “You are certain of this. A conviction that her sister’s words were true had from the first possessed her. There one is! The same stuff still! One has a craving in one’s blood, a craving roused, cut off from its redeeming and guiding emotional side. Wild in his own domain. Cursing under his breath, Gerald moved swiftly across and dragged her away. “Not too bad. But heavens, I must pack!” She sprang to her feet and disappeared in the room beyond, from which she emerged a few minutes later with flushed cheeks and dishevelled hair. ‘So this is Pottiswick’s French spy. ’ There was a chuckle in his voice.
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