"This is Mr Allday. My companion. My friend."

There was a tall-backed porter's chair in the hallway and Allday sat down in it very carefully. "I'll be in range whenever you gives the word, Sir Richard." One of the chandeliers shone briefly on the brass butt-plate of the heavy pistol concealed under his coat.

Lady Manners had seen it also, and she said a little too brightly, "You have nothing to fear in this house, Sir Richard!"

He looked at her calmly. "I am glad to know it, ma'am. Now, if you would hasten this interview I would be equally grateful."

The murmur of voices overhead stopped, as if the house itself were listening, and Bolitho heard the hiss of her gown against the banisters as she descended the beautiful staircase.

She stood two steps from the bottom and regarded him in slow examination, as if looking for something she had missed.

"So you came, Richard." She offered her hand, but he remained where he was.

"Let us not pretend. I came because of the child. A matter of-"

"Duty, were you about to say? Certainly not out of affection."

Bolitho glanced meaningly at the opulent surroundings. "It seems that my protection is rather more than adequate, let alone deserved."

The chair squeaked and she exclaimed, "I would prefer not to discuss this in front of servants, yours or mine!"

"We speak a different language." Bolitho found he could look at her without hatred, without any of the feelings he had expected. To think she had even chided him that he had married her for the worst possible reason, because she had looked so much like his first wife, Cheney.

"Allday has shared all the dangers and furies of this damned war-he is one of the men your so-called friends would spurn, even though he daily risks his life to keep you in comfort." He added with sudden anger, "What about Elizabeth?"

She seemed about to return to the attack, then gave it up.

"Follow me."