She was silent, watching him.
"A note must come from him—it will be better to write to the boy, because he is not familiar with Lord Leycester's hand-writing—telling them to get out at the station before London, at Vauxhall. They are to get out and go to the entrance, where they will find a brougham, which will take them to him. You understand?"
"I understand," she said. "But the note—who is to forge—write it?"
He smiled at her with malignant triumph.
"You."
"I?"
He smiled again.
"Yes, you. Who so well able to do it? You are an adept at manipulating correspondence, remember, my lady!"
She winced, and her eyes blazed under their lowered lids.