Annabel ignored both the chair and the invitation. The Ragged Edge. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. ‘Besides, I don’t want the men blundering in here and frightening off our spy. I wrenched this off, and in an envelope addressed to me in faded ink, I found the locket and the pearls. Why he paid so much attention to Sir James Thornhill may be explained anon. . He seemed inexorable, and inscrutable as fate itself.
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