‘He destroyed the papers?’ ‘That’s right,’ Roding said, throwing her a glance of frowning surprise, as if he had not rated her intelligence so high. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. She raided their settlements in shifts, staggering her kills from tribe to tribe, undiscriminating of their petty politics. "Be it so," replied Jack. The young rascal had learnt from some of the women-servants that Lady Trafford was from home, and was in the very act of making off when I got down stairs. What matters it? My servant, he is wounded—and by a Frenchman, if you wish to make an arrest.
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