They crossed the slight alleyway, and she laid her hand on his arm, almost caressingly, Fairchild thought, and he stared hard as though in unbelief of their identity.

But it was certain.

It was Maurice Rodaine and Anita Richmond; they came closer, her eyes turned toward Fairchild, and then-- She went on, without speaking, without taking the trouble to notice, apparently, that he had been standing there..