He did not think of her as a killer, he could barely conceive it. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. The Ragged Edge. Everything had stayed the same during the centuries. ‘What we have to find out is whether or not the wretched female is in fact Lord Charvill’s granddaughter. He hesitated. Pray, walk in. He walked her home.
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