Drawing a pistol, and unclosing his lantern with the quickness of thought, he then burst through an open trap-door into a small loft. It was decrepit and too large. Then she came a few steps to meet him. Following him, and acting out of instinct rather than intent, Melusine took a firm grasp of the gilt frame with both hands, lifted it high in the air and, with a shrieking curse, brought it down hard. “I never dreamt!” she said. There'll be busy days and idle. The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple.
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