“Did you—did you really think that they would take you for a Frenchman?” she exclaimed. Melusine grasped the hilt of the sword she had been carefully holding, and came out into the light. Her slender throat was encircled by a black riband, with a small locket attached to it; and upon the top of her head rested a diminutive lace cap. "I shall need little more. “Kick aht at ‘em!” though, indeed, she went now with Christian meekness, resenting only the thrusting policemen’s hands. Let—it—fall. " Jonathan hastily picked up the pen, and presented it to Trenchard, who attached his signature to the document. He might not condone it, but the feelings that had prompted it augured well for Melusine’s safety.
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