When she judged that she must be nearly back at the library, she began to feel somewhat dispirited. Melusine ripped at the buttons of the garment, dragging it open and away, and gasped at the massive red stain on his shirt. Every care had been taken of it, as well as of himself, by the humane inmates of the house in which he had sought shelter. Immediately he grasped the fact that there was drama here, probably the old drama of the fugitive. At any cost! Her brothers had it practically—at least they had it far more than it seemed likely she would unless she exerted herself with quite exceptional vigor.
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