She knew the story only imperfectly, and followed it now with a passionate and deepening interest. ‘She hasn’t said so, but I presume Valade had got hold of all the useful papers,’ Gerald went on. It had showed up at an auction at Sotheby’s after someone had sold it. Indignation carried her through that night, that men and the world could so entreat her. On a pallet in one corner lay a pale emaciated female. “I am afraid that you are making a mistake,” she said. ‘I suppose this is the cavalier you had with you when you—er—attended the ball the other night?’ ‘Jacques is very useful to me,’ Melusine confirmed, bestowing that same radiant smile on the young man, whose features were instantly suffused with scarlet. The change in her face was not a pleasant one. A buxom piece, who looked, Gerald decided, as if she would be more at home in an amorous engagement in a hayloft than sitting demurely in a ballroom.
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