Gerald caught the look and slipped the weapon into his pocket. I’ve had it, Sheila. Slowly she released the hammer on the pistol, uncocking it, and Gerald became conscious that he had been holding his breath. She ran from the knave into the women’s quarters. From the freshness of the stains, which grew more frequent as they approached the adjoining chamber, it was evident some violence had been recently perpetrated, and the carpenter's own blood froze within his veins as he thought, with a thrill of horror, that, perhaps on this very spot, not many minutes before his arrival, his adopted son might have been inhumanly butchered. When he’s found out where she’s staying, I’ll have him keep an eye on Valade’s residence in Paddington, I think.
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