The real Ruth was as completely hidden as though she stood behind the walls of Agra Fort. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. I examined the Condemned Hold myself carefully this morning, and didn't find a nail out of its place. ‘I broke in. ‘Lord in heaven, did I do that?’ exclaimed Gerald remorsefully. The vicomte has, he say, enough femmes in his hands. ’ He bowed and indicated the open door at the back of the hall.
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