I’ll kill you, Sheila, and I’ll kill her too. You’re dogmatic. "The door!—the door!—death!" he added, as he tried the handle, "it is locked—and I am unarmed. But Gerald kept to a casual note. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. ‘Jacques!’ Melusine dropped to her haunches beside his inert form, feeling for the wound. There would be no way of keeping her police questioning a secret from the entire neighborhood.
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