His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor. " "Jack's mother?" exclaimed the young man. Both girls looked pale and listless. ‘By traitors I am surrounded!’ ‘Stop talking utter twaddle,’ ordered Roding, marching up to the desk. He grabbed her wrist and prised the weapon from her fingers, ignoring her other hand that clawed at his to try to retain the trophy. ‘I dropped the lantern,’ Jack’s muffled voice told her. I hope you won’t think less of me, you’ve treated me so well.
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