‘But this Englishwoman,’ asked the man Valade, his puzzlement plain to see, ‘who was she?’ The question irritated Charvill. He sat on the bed, throwing aside his hat. ‘Quite mad, nuns are. Fast. I’d only get a pack of lies in reply. These two elderly ladies would call her stark mad. But about his unknown rival he was acutely curious. This is the way the old thief brings in all his heavy plunder, which he stows in out-of-the-way holes in his infernal dwelling. But, this sad affair disposed of, I will not rest till I have avenged my murdered parents.
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