For a moment she remained silent. Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. No surprise, for Melusine was aware no Frenchman in his situation would dream of walking abroad unarmed. He never said hello, as if it had become a personal taboo for him. Melusine crossed to open it, and immediately the knocking intensified in volume. What matters it? My servant, he is wounded—and by a Frenchman, if you wish to make an arrest. C. I am not sure, but I believe that he has just thought of something.
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