But in a moment, it was tucked under his arm and, raising the pistol again, he gestured towards the door opposite the one where Melusine stood. She remained by the door until the walls of the city swallowed the bobbing lantern. ‘You are Mrs Ibstock, I think,’ she said eagerly. She was wholly unable to conceal her knowledge of his presence. Me—I’m nothing but a country wench, and one who went to the bad. His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet. Things happened frequently over here that wouldn't happen in the States once in a hundred years.
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