To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. ‘But if there is one, how in the world did this mystery lady of yours know of it?’ ‘That, Lucy, is precisely the point that has been exercising my mind,’ Gerald said, turning his eyes once more to the group of French exiles in the alcove. Sheppard, who had been stricken down by the blow that prostrated her assailant, looked up, she perceived Jonathan Wild kneeling beside the body of Blueskin. Stanley poured wine. I don’t half disagree with you, Vee, really; only thing is, I don’t see how you’re going to pull it off. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. Part 2 Ann Veronica Stanley was twenty-one and a half years old.
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