He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt. Sulphurous poisons assaulted her nostrils as she threw the stone to one side of its resting place. ‘Troops?’ ‘Go, man,’ urged the major in an undervoice. It was also cold, and dark, for there had been no time to light the lantern. Nor, he would wager, had the heroic Monsieur Valade, who had rescued her from that life and brought her to England, taught her in that short time all that Gerald was certain she knew of men. Too late now. She rang again with the same result.
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