Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. But I've an old friend on the way here, and he knows the game down there. “Not at all. ’ ‘You mean monsieur le baron, the General Charvill, my grandfather?’ Melusine laid aside on the table the letter she had been studying and turned so that the frame of her nun’s wimple no longer obscured her view. Their conversation hung. If he senses fear in the touch of your hand, he'll give you trouble. "So you're writing under a nom de plume, eh?" said McClintock, holding out the letter.
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