With a cry of distress, she dropped the pistol and flew after him, racing past him to the door. “Did you—did you really think that they would take you for a Frenchman?” she exclaimed. A sound sleeper, she was not roused by the creaky openings and closings of drawers as Lucy packed a single duffle bag with underwear and soap that was pilfered from a multipack of Zest in the Beck’s downstairs bathroom. ‘And it is not only a question of her identity, but a matter of her life as well. Taking the direction pointed out, he rode off. She loved to walk through the gardens, graced with columns that loomed overhead. “It’s a matter of feeling with me.
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