A slender young man, wearing glasses, appeared from the shadow of the nearest van. Like most officers, he’d had it especially made, for a man who loved danger had need of a precision instrument of defence. ’ ‘He had no further need of them,’ Gosse said and his laugh sounded heartless to Melusine. He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. She fought a compulsive urge to yank his shirt free. Little by little, she stopped hating him. Perhaps I may borrow yours one day?’ ‘Lucilla, you wretch,’ burst from the captain. That was what she was trying to make him understand.
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