“I was thinking of his death.”
“His death!”
Artois felt cold with apprehension, but he was determined to be sincere.
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t ask me any more, Hermione. I know nothing more.”
“He was coming from the island. He slipped and fell into the sea.”
“He fell into the sea.”
There was a long silence between them, filled by the perpetual striving of the restless waves within the chambers of the palace. Then she said:
“Her father was on the island that night?”
“I think he was.”