They confronted each other, barely feet apart, neither apparently any longer aware of anyone else in the room. It was a habit she had taken from Remenham House, but could not wear because of the colour which must draw attention. ‘At me,’ she uttered, holding her own pistol high and aiming it steadily. She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. She had behaved in every way perfectly. Surely Capes was different. ‘I am saying so,’ protested Gerald mildly.
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