I will come later to see you, Melusine. He did not know what her game was, although he had a shrewd suspicion that she had been co-opted into it by her supposed husband, the soi-disant Valade. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. There must be something we can do. She still kicked herself for it. ‘I try to be. She was too delicate, too fragile to survive out there. He succeeded so well that they were almost in Montague Street before Anna stopped short. ‘But she will not shoot you,’ Melusine told him flatly.
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