His smile faded. “Nigel is like all men,” Lady Lescelles continued. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. More importantly, she had her wits. “I don’t see what he has to do with my coming to London?” “He—he worships the ground you tread on. My house is the next door to the Cooper's Arms, in the Old Bailey, opposite Newgate. “Does he live here?” he asked her presently. Was she so bad a prospect? ‘No good, Melusine,’ said a new voice from the doorway. Operations then commenced. Also she had tried him as a dragoman and as a gendarme, which seemed the most suitable of all to his severely handsome, immobile profile. “She has always worked very long hours as a real estate agent.
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