So, at least, thought one of two persons who were seated together in a small back-parlour of the house at Dollis Hill. The pieces fell to the ground in a little white shower. The struggle was brief, and Gerald stepped aside, the pistol in his possession, while the girl Melusine stood trembling and glaring. The sergeant had not seen it for he understood nothing of what she told him. ‘Jacques?’ she called. “I can tell you are thinking about it. A white man takes his life in his hands. ‘To where has he gone off?’ ‘No use asking me,’ shrugged the captain.
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