"It is your son. The Trenchard estates will likewise be mine, for Sir Rowland is no more, and the youth, Thames, will never again see daylight. I was just like a sort of dummy that does things as it is told—that is to say, as the strings are pulled. She stared out of the paned glass window, watching the trees being blown bare by the gale force. When she awoke from a pleasant dream an hour later, she was shocked to find herself restrained in a bed that was not hers and not the inn’s. ‘Sleeping like a baby, he is. I die happy—quite happy in beholding you.
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