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Sheppard. ’ ‘Woof!’ The sergeant appeared nonplussed, and Melusine pressed her advantage. Why? Here was a curtain indeed. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. . From where had he come, and why? An author! To her he would be no less interesting because he was unsuccessful. “Perhaps,” he queried, “you wish to avoid being seen about with any one—er— connected with the profession, under present circumstances. Through a blur of tears Ruth followed the rocking light until it vanished. She had traversed perhaps three bookshelves, passed across the door that must lead to the hall, turned the corner, and was just about to reach the fireplace when she abruptly became aware that something under her fingers had felt wrong. “Dear me, what a relief! If I had had any nerves that man would have trampled upon them long ago. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form. ‘And just who is Leonardo?’ ‘How in God’s name should I know?’ demanded Roding irascibly.
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