As he was about to descend his chains slightly rattled. ’ Melusine cursed Emile roundly, but raised a defiant head. He laughed reassuringly. Pity you aren’t under my command. By a sort of instinct. He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed.
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