She waited expectantly. Perhaps he had heard of this Enschede. ’ About to hurry from the little parlour, Melusine remembered Mrs Ibstock. She opened it and drew out a letter, and folded within it were the notes she had sent off to Ramage that day. The features were indistinct, but was that not a halo of white about it? And the dark shadow below, was that a cloak, or the habit of a nun? Skirting the dancing, from which he had taken a breather—not from lack of energy, but to escape the inanities of the young ladies he had partnered—Gerald made his way to a side door in the saloon and opened it.
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