Chapter 1588: Chapter 82_4
Winters had already arrived beside Mrs. Bod and Miss Bod.
He first offered a sincere apology to the two bereaved relatives, then, like everyone else, said so banal words of condolence and encouragent.
Mrs. Bod was unmistakably a noblewoman; her deanor, her makeup, and her ticulously styled hair all indicated this.
Even in such a difficult mont, she was striving with all her might to fulfill her duties as “Mrs. Bod.”
She expressed appropriate gratitude to Winters, maintaining her elegance and strength.
As for sorrow… she no longer had the energy to feign grief. In fact, the most sorrowful monts had long since passed.
Miss Bod was a slender young lady, who kept her eyes lowered throughout, hiding most of her face beneath a black veil, with only a thin, stubborn-looking pair of lips visible beneath her small nose.
After offering condolences, Winters turned to Mason and asked, “Where is the person?”
“How could the nun make an appearance in public? She’s in the rear hall.”
So the three of them headed to the rear hall.
“What are you here for?” Winters asked as he walked, “You can’t be here to ransom soone, can you?”
Mason looked dumbfounded, “After owing such a big favor, you still want them to ‘ransom’?”
“She really can’t ‘ransom’,” Winters frowned, “Felter knows too much about us, or else… I’ll just say he’s dead.”
“Ah, you’re really…” Mason was speechless.
Soon they arrived outside the door of a small room in the rear hall.
“The nuns are all inside,” Mason said apologetically, “I won’t accompany you in, you can go by yourself.”
“The nuns?” Winters asked warily, “How many people are there exactly?”
“Five, but only one wants to see you.”
Winters pondered briefly, nodded, “Alright, you don’t need to co in with , please return to the main hall and protect Anna.”
Mason raised an eyebrow, nodded, said nothing, and left.
“You can’t leave,” Winters pulled Caman, “You have to co in with .”
With that, he knocked on the door.
The door opened slightly, and a nun stood behind it.
“Are you His Excellency Montaigne?” the nun asked.
“It’s .” Winters nodded.
The door opened completely.
“Please co in,” the nun at the door said, only then noticing Caman beside her.
Winters also saw the entirety of the room: including the nun at the door, four nuns stood facing him, and one had her back to him, sitting at the deepest part of the room.
“We…” the nun at the door said with so difficulty, “are not comfortable hosting unfamiliar n…”
“Am I not unfamiliar anymore?” Winters replied with a smile.
The nun at the door secretly sized up Caman’s Holy Emblem, black robe, and white stiff collar at his neck, “But this one is…”
“Father Kaman is the person I trust the most,” Winters interrupted her, “Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of him.”
The four standing nuns, hearing this, all looked toward the fifth nun.
“Then please co in,” said a clear and lodious voice, like an orchid in the valley, “both of you.”
So Winters stepped into the room.
The fifth nun stood up to greet them; as she turned her face, even Winters was briefly stunned by her beauty.
Unlike Anna’s temperant or Catherine’s brightness;
It was the pure beauty brought by absolute symtry and proportion.
The fifth nun did not perform a curtsey but elegantly extended her arm, surprisingly to shake hands with Winters.
“Hello,” the nun smiled sweetly, adding a touch of vivacity, “Winters Montagne.”
An initiative handshake from the nun was a first; Winters was sowhat flustered and extended his hand.
However, upon touching the other’s fingertips, he instantly realized sothing was amiss; the other’s skin was too smooth to be human.
Looking again, the other clearly wore so kind of glove.
In a flash, Winters’ mind sparked.
In the blink of an eye, he shouted loudly.
In the next millisecond, he lost consciousness.
And the words he shouted were:
“Don’t kill them!”
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