‘That is the man who tries to kill me, but he wounded instead my servant. All this was the work of a minute. So, you see—’ ‘Do not say any more,’ Melusine uttered, flinging away and moving to the fireplace. Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf. Diane did not hear the footsteps on her brick patio or the audible click of the back door lock being compromised. In all his life he had never realized a dream; but the thought had never before hurt him. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup.
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