Somewhere you may stumble upon a clew to his identity. John knew better. They sat down in a covered pavilion that housed a grimy picnic table and a dingy fire pit. To Capes he was almost deferential, and she had never seen him deferential in the old time, never. ‘Why?’ ‘Why take me to France? Why trouble himself with me, when so easily he could leave me to this Monsieur Remenham to keep?’ To Melusine’s instant suspicion, Martha bit her lip, drew a breath, and avoided her charge’s gaze. “You’re—I don’t know,” said Ann Veronica.
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