’ ‘Yes, but what is it, Jacques?’ demanded the lady. Melusine sighed with relief at being alone at last and free to resume her search among the portraits. Her tone should have warned him, but he was too much in earnest to regard it. But this is like—like walking round a house that looks square and complete and finding an unexpected long wing running out behind. Then as she lay very still, with her hands clinched and her black hair tumbled about her face, he came still closer and softly kissed the nape of her neck. Here Jack Sheppard was unable to repress an exclamation of astonishment.
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