By a miracle, he averted its path, his hold on the girl’s mouth shifting fast to grasp her wrist. A chill rain thrummed against the sides of John’s car, having slowed from deluge to steady patter, the snow was 158 dissolved where it lay. ’ ‘It is well seen you are not Gérard,’ Melusine said, but thankful now that he was not. She twisted her fingers tightly. But that bridge was more remarkable than any the metropolis now possesses. Melusine sighed with relief and set to work by the light of the lantern. No doubt he knew enough of his world to recognise that he stood little chance against the word of a major of militia. .
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