Tom was sorry, Jean hung his head and let out a deep sigh and shook his head slightly. Jean watched a 9listened to Tom speak, he wanted to believe him, to trust this strange galdor.
"Tom, I...”
Jean trailed off and gave a sad smile said softly..
"Nothing to forgive."
However he was alone, he shut the door and rested his forehead against its cool surface and said in a voice heavy with regret and sorrow.
"I am not made for this either.”
Safe once more behind his locked door, surrounded by books and fine furnishings sat in his wingback Jean De Silver nodded to himself.
He'd risked everything on a roll of the dice and while it hurt, he hadn't lost and for a time at least, he had not felt so alone.
Jean De Silver took a long drag on his cigar and regarded the books on the table.
As he looked, the elegant engine of his mind turned as he took a sip of whiskey and looked at the door.
"What is haunting you, Tom Wynngate?"