She could not look at him through an interval that seemed to her a vast gulf of time. “I would not have you go for anything,” she answered. She looked at him curiously. Between the two officers, with their arms linked in his, Jack Sheppard was conducted to the cart. “Call me Annabel. Mr. ” He stared at a little eddy. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. ’ ‘Very well, Melusine, you win,’ Gerald said unguardedly, and dug his hand into his pocket. .
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