‘They fled themselves,’ said Vlacho. ‘But they are separated and we shall catch them. Oh, yes, we know where to look for most of them.’
‘Then you’ve not caught any of them yet? How stupid you are!’
‘My lady is severe. No, we have caught none yet.’
‘Not even Wheatley himself?’ she asked. ‘Has he shown you a clean pair of heels?’
Vlacho’s voice betrayed irritation as he answered:
‘We shall find him also in time, though heaven knows where the rascal has hidden himself.’
‘You’re really very stupid,’ said Francesca. I heard her sniff her perfume. ‘And the girl?’ she went on.
‘Oh, we have her safe and sound,’ laughed Vlacho. ‘She’ll give no more trouble.’
‘Why, what will you do with her?’
‘You must ask my lord that,’ said Vlacho. ‘If she will give up the island, perhaps nothing.’