She drifted northward from the Strand, and came on some queer and dingy quarters. ‘Well,’ began Captain Roding, looking at Melusine, ‘you know those nuns of yours took up Valade—I mean, Gosse—and put him to bed to mend his wound, and I posted a guard outside his room so he couldn’t escape, for Gerald told you all that. Nay, for aught I know, some of them may even now have got scent of me. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent. She felt her skills make a belated return. “Will he live?” The doctor shook his head. ’ ‘What son?’ asked Roding. The open windows were above them now and, unless the intruder were to lean out, they could not possibly be seen.
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