What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. “With your permission I should like to search the remainder of your rooms. ‘Doesn’t she, Gerald?’ Gerald held up his hands. “Believe me, I know. It was a bizarre sight, a miniature manor, replicated fully, walled in gray limestone. Telling the porter that he would attend to the house himself, he bade him go in search of Jack Sheppard. Lucy felt her eyes misting up, turning traitor. You cannot—shall not retreat.
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