"Mr. ” Anna shook hands with Brendon—a young man also, but older and more selfpossessed than Sydney Courtlaw. Until the last few months. She finished the olive and looked up. “That,” she answered, “is far easier to believe. “In Paris our lives were far apart, and we had seldom the same friends. And since then, he has openly avowed his determination of cutting his master's throat on the slightest inkling of treachery. I'm almost sorry I've sworn to hang you. No doubt he knew enough of his world to recognise that he stood little chance against the word of a major of militia.
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