Chapter Two ‘Our French friends are beginning to form quite a little coterie,’ remarked Gerald, covertly studying the group gathered in an alcove at the other side of Lady Bicknacre’s ballroom. Thames returned no answer. It may be, it probably will all come to, nothing. She had been in the drawing-room for a few minutes before the gong had sounded, and had chattered gaily to every one. “It is positively no use, Anna,” she declared, appealingly. “It is Rhea’s infant. She was crushed with a sense of her own terrible impotency. They hissed me!” “Beasts!” he muttered. When in the plenitude of his power, he commenced a terrible trade, till then unknown—namely, a traffic in human blood. I have—run away.
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