” Sydney Courtlaw followed his timid knock. "'The Man Who Could Not Go Home. “Mr. Manning’s letter. ’ She bit her lip, frowning. The prisoner breathed with difficulty. Aware of the footman hovering, and the hackney coachman’s curious eyes looking down from his box, Gerald leaned a little towards her and spoke in a lowered tone. “You must not think of me as one. A lucky escape. Only promise me this. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. The entire place was a masterpiece of wooden carving, a design of interleaving carried throughout.
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