" Spurlock turned his dull eyes and tried to focus hers. Hidden menace; a prescience of something dreadful about to happen. gutenberg. He was there concealed, waiting her return. "Sir Cecil is no more. But shurely I'd know that vice," he added, turning his lantern towards the janizary. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist.
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