CHAPTER I. "Leave him to me," he said. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. ‘Now then, girl. Melusine recognised the burly form of Captain Roding’s sergeant. I was sorry for what I did afterwards; for, I don't know why, but, poor, lady! with her pale face, and black eyes, she reminded me of my mother. Mary Remenham had passed on her every feature to the daughter whose advent had taken her from this world. ‘By traitors I am surrounded!’ ‘Stop talking utter twaddle,’ ordered Roding, marching up to the desk. “Oh, you know,” she said. A wooden balcony in one of the adjoining houses was thronged with ladies, all of whom appeared to take a lively interest in the scene, and to be full of commiseration for the criminal, not, perhaps, unmixed with admiration of his appearance. I am sorry, but you have spoilt me. Just me and another girl named Krista who turned eighteen and left right about when I got there.
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