Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul. She cried and sobbed in fits. . ‘Do you mean to tell me,’ enquired the captain at length, ‘that you have had the infernal audacity, the—the gall, the—the— Gad, it’s an outrage! You’ve stolen a horse from a priest?’ ‘I did not steal it,’ protested Melusine hotly. None saw, though all felt, his presence, and heard the thunder of his voice. But she found an unknown lady’s discarded garments, and selected some of those that she tried on, sending Kimble off down the secret passage to load them onto the horse she had borrowed—unbeknownst to its owner—from Father Saint-Simon. If ever I could bring myself to ask you any favour, I would ask you to forget even as I have forgotten. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark.
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