“But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. “We played at love-making in Paris. He had a quick, shrewd, merry eye, and a look in which duplicity was agreeably veiled by good humour. Father had traveled to Florence to the Mercato Nuovo, staying away for a half year at a time paying court to the house of the silk merchant Iovelli, which was patronized by none other than the Medicis. “I wish that I could forget it,” he said. “Forgive me,” he said, “but I want to hear it from your sister. ‘But a spy I am not. I suppose it is the mirrors and decorations. ‘She means thanks to you, General,’ Gerald translated automatically, forgetful of his old commander’s fiery temper. ” He raised his hand, and they saw that he was holding a small revolver. Gosse sagged under the impact, knocking over the card table, and falling to sit, half stunned, the discharged pistol flying from his slackened grasp.
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