"Now, let's see who'll dare to take him down," she cried. And lunged once more. She ignored his question. She admired and rather pitied him, and she was unfeignedly grateful to him. ’ Melusine shrugged, and crossed to the plain door beside which hung a bell. Was she so bad a prospect? ‘No good, Melusine,’ said a new voice from the doorway. But he died when he was a child—long ago—long ago—long ago. ’ She bit her lip, but her eyes betrayed her. ‘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. .
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