‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve. The spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares. ” She rang the bell, and he waited by her side until she was admitted to the tall, gloomy lodging-house. It seemed to her that her father was in some inexplicable way meaner-looking than she had supposed, and yet also, as unaccountably, appealing.
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