As she crossed the square, almost within a stone’s throw of her lodgings, she came face to face with Courtlaw. She moved forward almost indiscernibly, a millimeter. He walked out into the Champs Elysées and sat down. Hastening in the direction of the sound, he discovered Thames Darrell, stretched upon the ground. As she came close, he took a pace forward and seized her from behind, one strong arm clamping her tight against his chest, the free hand seizing her about the mouth, stifling the cry that gurgled in her throat. ‘Poor Hilary. “But where are you going? Lucy, you’re safe here. Yes.
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