She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. “They have no plans for us. "Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket. "To-morrow night!" said Spurlock, in a wondering whisper. “My brother’s room when he comes home.
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