She turned to Lucilla, a plea in her face. I’ve muddled all this business. ‘Silence,’ hissed a voice in French. “Do you happen to know whether she is supposed to be here?” “Very likely indeed,” Captain Fred Meddoes answered, lighting a cigarette. . . She had resisted as long as she could; then she had stolen over. It was painted in the early seventeenth century by a minor artist named DuPre. Giving him a wide berth, and keeping her pistol high, she made her way to the door and warily peered through it. ’ He stopped suddenly, dismay creeping into his face.
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