‘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. But nobody drinks on my island unless I offer it, which is seldom. And I have no more the pistol. Or was that perhaps because his business in Piccadilly the other day had gone awry? Perhaps Brewis Charvill had not welcomed him with open arms. Kneebone—she was too well acquainted; having, more than once, been obliged to repel his advances; and, though his impertinence would have given her little concern at another season, it now added considerably to her distraction. He went over his interview with her again, their conversation at dinner-time. Once in England, she made all haste to visit Remenham House. It was the blood she found that cemented her decision that her foster daughter was a criminal.
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