A dozen books lay upon the counterpane. I thought my sister and her murdered husband dragged me hither, to this very room, and commanded you to slay me. ‘You know what I am about,’ exclaimed Melusine impatiently. Neither you nor your mother shall escape me. I'm almost sorry your suspicions are unfounded, if your father in any way resembled you, my youngster. She would stare if she knew the full sum of Melusine’s activities. He was a young man of about two-and-twenty, who, without having anything remarkable either in dress or appearance, was yet a noticeable person, if only for the indescribable expression of cunning pervading his countenance. I can’t do it even decently myself, and I dare not run the risk of ruining all my clothes.
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