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Gerald frowned. A chill ran through his frame, and, grasping the heavy weapon with which chance had provided him, prepared to strike down the first person who should enter the cell. ‘It had better not be, by God,’ had barked Captain Hilary Roding. ’ ‘Don’t need you to tell me that, Prudence Sindlesham,’ barked the old man, his glance snapping at her briefly, before resuming his study of Melusine, who, to Gerald’s intense admiration, was standing before him, glaring and stiff with defiance. His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true. But that explains everything. ‘Well, water under the bridge is that, miss.
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