A moment more and he would have been crushed beneath the ponderous board, when a slight but strong arm arrested its descent. And, decently as he could, McClintock was giving the man the boot. Who is to say that I am not André Valade, an obscure relation of the late vicomte. If I am to die in the attempt, then so be it. White assured her. They sat down in a covered pavilion that housed a grimy picnic table and a dingy fire pit. A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. He understood. She pulled, he rose to his feet.
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