The militiaman at once thrust the old man between the shoulder blades, pushing him into the kitchen. ‘Do you mean to tell me,’ enquired the captain at length, ‘that you have had the infernal audacity, the—the gall, the—the— Gad, it’s an outrage! You’ve stolen a horse from a priest?’ ‘I did not steal it,’ protested Melusine hotly. During this colloquy, Jack had contrived unobserved to put on the hood and cloak, and being about the size of the rightful owner, presented a very tolerable resemblance to her. She felt that for a time at any rate her depressing struggle against continual failure was at an end. The door was locked; but, with the bars of iron, it was speedily burst open. "Red apples and snow!" he repeated.
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