But you must not imagine me wrapped in melancholy. ” “I suppose not. “I hope you’re satisfied. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. Away in London even now Capes was packing and preparing; Capes, the magic man whose touch turned one to trembling fire. Melusine recognised the burly form of Captain Roding’s sergeant.
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