Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. “Really, Sir John,” she said, “I don’t know how to thank you. Their flitting hands were always touching. I love you calling me Gérard and idiot, and I love you when you threaten me with every weapon under the sun, and—’ ‘Pah!’ interrupted Melusine, scorn in her voice. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. We made sure it was just like Gwen. She thought me— filthy. Sheppard found it; and, as no one opposed her, she at once took up her abode there; nor was she long in discovering that the dreaded sounds proceeded from the nocturnal gambols of a legion of rats.
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