Linetta had read it so often that she knew it by heart.
Inscribed in a clerk’s hand were the words,
“In consequence of the death of Mrs. Yvonne Falaise this is to inform you that the monies paid to her every quarter day will cease forthwith from this, the twenty-fifth day of September in the year of Our Lord 1867.
Yours respectfully,
Herman Clegg,
Secretary.”
That was all.
Linetta opened the letter, which had become creased from being carried in her handbag and passed it to the Marquis.
He took it from her automatically, his eyes on her face, his expression almost as worried and anxious as hers.
Then, as if he could find no words to articulate what was in his thoughts, he looked down at the letter.
Suddenly he became rigid.
There was something in his stillness that frightened Li
