She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf. She stood up and he sat down at the microscope, and for a time he was busy scrutinizing one section after another. She looked about, watching a massive green storm cloud building in the west. “You!” she exclaimed. “Ferringhall, were you or were you not dining last night at a certain restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiennes with—la petite Pellissier?” Now indeed Sir John was moved. ‘Do you think it is the man in the moon that I mean? What is it that Gérard has told you?’ ‘That you need help.
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