He would always be her friend, too. You're in luck to-night, widow. Of course there are, millions of them. He understood. As Jack departed, a dark figure, emerging from behind a wall, rushed after him. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. "Good-bye, Mac. She was only trying to distract you so that she might escape.
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