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’ ‘Excellent,’ Gerald had approved. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. We were to ransom you, then we would fake your death, play as if the kidnappers had executed you. ’ The lady’s face came round, a puzzled frown on her brow. For when this Joan said it, I had a memory. She saw her aunt in tears, her father white-faced and hard hit. It was not a long prayer.

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