But that was soon put right, and she walked out into London with a peculiar exaltation of mind, an exaltation that partook of panic and defiance, but was chiefly a sense of vast unexampled release. His eyes on Melusine, he uncocked the pistol, and then reached out to the portrait, grasping it by one edge. And I have no more the pistol. ’ Chapter Six Creeping along the dark narrow passage, with lantern held well ahead to keep her step steady on the uneven stones—and to warn her of the advent of rats— Melusine kept her long petticoats fastidiously clear of the dirt with an efficient hand, a habit she had learned in the convent. But it would be too risky. There was a stain of wine upon her dress. This was just what he needed. “You are positively eloquent to-night—both of you,” she declared. A tourist caravan of four pole-chairs jogged along a narrow street.
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