Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. ‘Could she have been a spy, after all?’ ‘Oh, she’s not a spy,’ Gerald answered, almost absently. “I am just back from Paris. . "Your answer, gem'men?" demanded Sharples. His fingers cherished the hilt of his sword and his eyes were on his friend and superior, ready at his back to do whatever was needed. “We must go. You are alone in the world, you have no one save yourself to consider. The fact is I was so glad to see you again that it never occurred to me that a little discretion might be advisable.
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