It was like the grin of a fiend, and made my flesh creep on my bones. Did he intend to kill her now, this instant? Or had she a moment or two to try to save herself? Recalling Leonardo’s dictum, she did not struggle, for that would only tighten the trap about her, and perhaps even spring it. ’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. Who is she, I say?” “My sister!” Annabel faltered. “You ARE a female thing at bottom,” he admitted.
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