Lucy could see her striding down a Parisian catwalk quite easily. Sebastian dug through the viscous layers of foul-smelling clay with a shovel, each successive insertion creating an obscene sucking noise that ate at her sanity. ‘Must be still downstairs. ” Annabel laughed hardly. I—I hurt myself. ’ ‘And now we know also who is the prétendant, Mademoiselle Charvill. But it is all very different. The pistol was his own, it is true, but it was one which was taken from him when he forced his way in upon me before.
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