” She thanked him with a look and rose to her feet. Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous. She read beautifully because the fixed form of the poem signified nothing. Sheppard, somewhat alarmed by this preamble. Several of the assailants carried links, so that the room was a blaze of light. . ‘Who the devil is Leonardo?’ demanded Roding impatiently, asking the question that had leapt into the major’s mind. She crawled underneath the soft white sheets, reclining and pulling the blankets up to her chin.
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