Lucy grabbed the hand cannon, stuffing it with powder, nearly missing a swing of the sword meant for her neck. His tone changed, becoming a little more moderate. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. ‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment. ‘What am I looking for?’ ‘A miniature. 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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