" "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. Why was she noting things like this? Capes seemed selfpossessed and elaborately genial and commonplace, but she knew him to be nervous by a little occasional clumsiness, by the faintest shadow of vulgarity in the urgency of his hospitality. ’ ‘I swear to you, it is the exact truth,’ he protested. The thing is, Miss Charvill —’ ‘He told you my name?’ cut in Melusine, surprised. She met his eyes for a moment, and could not interpret their expression. K-kimble, sir,’ stammered the lad.
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