Shotbolt nodded in token of acquiescence, and emitted an odd guttural sound. She thought of Sebastian who often returned from the charnel house that the outside world had become. In the subdued light she could not tell whether he was asleep or awake. A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. ‘Parbleu, how you make me talk!’ ‘Your secret is safe with me, I promise you,’ Gerald said reassuringly. But how to avail himself of it was the question, for in his present garb he was sure to be recognised. .
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