’ ‘Was it yours?’ Insulted beyond bearing, Melusine lost her temper. He was about to cut the sergeant short, when his eye fell on a gentleman walking along Piccadilly, his manner uncertain, his eyes shifting as if he sought something out. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. Even in the daylight, it had a sombre and suspicious air, and seemed to slink back from the adjoining houses, as if afraid of their society. Go in, go in, Melusine prayed, hoping desperately that he would not change his mind and take another route. “It means that I have had enough of this slavery,” she declared. “It does nothing but sit there.
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