‘Merci, Joan,’ cried Melusine, moving to her and seizing her hand which she clasped between both her own for a moment, as she turned to the others. Gerald guessed she was biting her tongue on an explosive retort as she eyed him. ‘Yes, tell us everything at once,’ instructed Lucilla, pushing him towards the sofa she had vacated, and obliging him to sit beside her. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. When the carpenter a moment afterwards stretched out his hand, scarcely knowing whether he was alive or dead, he found himself alone.
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