Clarice rubbed her belly, singing songs to the unborn baby. She lifted the sheet and gestured for him to join her. The Jew did not speak, but pointed to the audience-chamber. ‘Why does this person say you are mad?’ ‘Because I am risking having my head blown off,’ Gerald answered cheerfully. He was bringing the sing-song girl to the hotel! The strange cortège presently vanished below the window-sill. Manning came into her thoughts again, an unexpected, tall, dark, self-contained presence at the Fadden. ‘One of they Frenchies, that’s what I say—if it ain’t a ghost.
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