His feeling of surprise was less keen, and quite transient.

Merlin had not found the letter-case.

Juliette, stricken with tardy remorse perhaps, had succeeded in concealing it.

The matter had practically ceased to interest him.

It was equally galling to owe his betrayal or his ultimate safety to her.
He kissed his mother tenderly, bidding her good-bye, and pressed Anne Mie's timid little hand warmly between his own.