He turned. It is the horse of the priest, you understand, and—and he does not know that I have borrowed it. Then we can loiter and gossip to our heart’s content. He grabbed her hair viciously and whispered loudly into her tear-streaked face. “It’s my fault. They took her fingerprints sitting at the gray metal desk of Officer Nolte, the virile young buck who had brought her in. I always thought that I could find and destroy all of her children, but there was no keeping up with it. She came originally of country stock, and had been virtually in sole charge of Melusine almost from the hour of her birth—a thankless task, as Melusine had heard her bemoan countless times, with the rider that she had carried it out with a conspicuous lack of success. Without her, it was lonely. And, if ever I'm brought to the gallows, I shall lay my death at her door. E.
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