He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. The Procession to Tyburn. She had never been able to discover where her father had hidden his shaving mirror. The thing is, Miss Charvill —’ ‘He told you my name?’ cut in Melusine, surprised. ‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. The picture in her mind altered and she saw again the way Gerald had looked with consternation upon the bruises he had inflicted on her wrist.
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