8. Having ascertained that Thames was at his heels, he hurried with his ghastly burthen down Seacoal Lane. Melusine recognised the burly form of Captain Roding’s sergeant. The Church refrained from investigation only because so many of its high-standing members were among the most frequent guests, and because of a heady dose of Sebastian’s influence. Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. Sebastian became furious and would have killed the man had he not been drafted into battle within the week. The watcher's intake of breath was sibilant. From the sounds of it, he was better off dead. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. Leastways, she’d be your greataunt, wouldn’t she?’ Astounded, Melusine was just about to demand further information, when a commotion outside the room interrupted her.
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