Satisfied, however, that she did not notice him, Jonathan glided away as noiselessly as he came, and ascended another short flight of stairs leading to the garret. ‘Who in the name of heaven is this Leonardo? And why did he kiss you?’ ‘He was an Italian soldier, and he wanted to kiss me,’ Melusine said, goaded. She thought of all sorts of odd and desperate expedients, and with passionate petulance rejected them all. The key is in my trousers. The thought passed through his mind even as he started to cross the terrace at a jogtrot, moving to head her off.
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