The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. ‘Think it’s worth getting some sort of light and following her down there?’ asked Roding. ‘Forgive me, Mrs Sindlesham, but do you tell me this inheritance that Melusine has fought so hard to recover is completely wasted?’ The old lady gave him a sharp look. ’ *** In the cosy little parlour that Pottiswick rarely used, Melusine paced restlessly to and fro. Then for a time she sat very still. He groaned, much to Melusine’s relief. Brendon was silent. His spirits revived, and encouraging himself with the idea that the present impediment, though the greatest, was the last, he set himself seriously to consider how it might best be overcome. She stepped backwards.
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