What sort of proof? There are no papers at Remenham House. She continued to fan herself. It did not matter that he wore the cloth; something was wrong with him. Challenge accepted. “I am afraid,” she said, “that he must have a skeleton key to these rooms. Will you forgive me—if I say no more?” She looked at him with perplexed, earnest eyes. And if this soi-disant Valade had already gone to Monsieur Charvill— ‘Very well,’ she said to Jack without turning round, ‘but now is Wednesday. “You see, father,” she said, “it isn’t only this affair of the dance.
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