He knew she was out there, he could feel it. He had never liked to be hugged, but she wondered if his corporeal needs would be made apparent by human touch. Soon the trunk, portmanteau and hat box were ready. Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. Ascending the stairs, and conducting them along a sombre gallery, in which Trenchard noticed that every door was painted black, and numbered, he stopped at the entrance of a chamber; and, selecting a key from the bunch at his girdle, unlocked it.
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