And Lady Trafford having been carried down stairs, and placed within it, the postboy drove off, at a rapid pace for Barnet. I might add that in any case I should not touch Sir John’s. The nuns had no regard for the sensibilities of a “lady” and expected Melusine— for it was her allotted task—to clean and tend the soldier’s wounds even when they festered. Aware of the footman hovering, and the hackney coachman’s curious eyes looking down from his box, Gerald leaned a little towards her and spoke in a lowered tone. So there is no escape. Who invented them? Nobody knows. This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him.
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