A species of vertigo seized him. She frowned and gripped her hands about her knees very tightly. And, with a glance of malignant exultation, he quitted the vault, and locked the door. ‘You’ll come with us and get yourself safe back home to your convent, understand?’ ‘But wait,’ begged Melusine, hanging back. For some days we shall be very idle there among the trees and rocks. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. He lowered himself on to her. His heart was beating, but faintly and slowly, with ominous intermissions. One thing—he could be thankful for that—the peak of his misfortunes had been reached; the world might come to an end now and not matter in the least.
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