Hastily, he reached for the door. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. Her voice was weak and flat. He had only to recall this fact (which he did in each crisis) to erect a barrier she could not go around or over. She was only trying to distract you so that she might escape. ’ Abruptly, the niggling doubt that had been plaguing Lord Charvill came sweeping to the surface. Seeing the footman about to follow her in, Gerald clamped a hand onto his shoulder. "Only the dog," replied the rough tones of a man. Hill, Meysey Hill.
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