‘And it is not only a question of her identity, but a matter of her life as well. “I have not left this apartment myself. She descended the stairs, and found herself at last in the street—alone. Swiftly he looked back to Melusine and found she had whisked to the window, dragging a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve and hastily blowing her nose. ‘And why not?’ ‘Because,’ Gerald said matter of factly, ‘convent-bred jeune demoiselles do not commonly know how to handle either pistols or daggers. The prostitute’s attack was predictable, typical.
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