She walked through the office to the door, aimlessly. Why? Because she knew him in life, because, so long as she could remember, he had crossed and recrossed her vision—Sidney Carton. ‘You’ve found her out?’ ‘Tell us at once,’ urged Miss Froxfield. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. It was at his side below the breast, hidden by the dark colour of his close-fitting jacket. ’ ‘Don’t call me by name,’ she snapped.
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