Thank him, not me, man. His initial nervousness had already abated, and it took some valour to allow himself to become embroiled in Melusine’s crazy schemes. She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. I must tell somebody—and you would understand. It is no more a murder, but a duel, you understand. And, though the villain can't see his orders executed, I've no doubt some one else will.
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