He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte. Glancing idly up at her own window as they had swung round the corner she had seen a strange thing. Fixing a ferocious and exulting look upon Jack Sheppard, he exclaimed. She had lost her sense of direction, and was among unfamiliar streets. "I could hang him now if I liked. ’ Melusine fought down the raw emotion that threatened to overwhelm her and drew a steadying breath.
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