The library was on the ground floor, Melusine recalled from the previous visit, for she had searched through a desk in a room filled with bookshelves of leatherbound volumes. Here was the corner-stone of a capital story; but he knew that Howard Spurlock would never write it. If she kept on, would she make it out of the door? Then what? He could come after her before she could reach the secret passage. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m not at all sympathique. The conversation which her entrance had interrupted began to buzz again all around her.
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