Her thin fingers were armed with nails as long as the talons of a bird. The figure she had longed to see came into her line of vision, but at this crucial moment of hideous realisation, Melusine barely took it in, her eyes fixing blankly on the man behind. One who—who—tres. Yet either the rest or the wine seemed already to have done him good. Harita, bir ejderhanın tapınak gibi görünen bir mağarayı işaret ediyordu. He was made welcome as McClintock's agent; but he politely declined all the proffered courtesies.
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