Blood dripped down one side of her forehead. ‘And I’d like to know what the devil—’ ‘Out of town?’ repeated Melusine, stupefied. Can’t ask the gent to go abroad and condone a bigamy. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. The door was fastened by a catch and a latch with an inside key, to which at night a chain and two bolts were added. A deep silence, however, now prevailed, broken only by the tolling of the bells of Newgate and St. ’ ‘It is well seen you are not Gérard,’ Melusine said, but thankful now that he was not.
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