It was an impulse. The carpet was a quiet drugget and not excessively worn, and the bed in the corner was covered by a white quilt. She slipped out the window, jumping to the ground from the second story with very little sound. But there was a face pressed to the glass. And not on Melusine’s account, but to see Prudence, who had no use for a cavalier. The blaze, however, was sufficient to reveal to the thief-taker the features of his intended assassin. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. But it was very hard to follow.
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