“We’re going to be found out someday. This year—I’ve got it badly. So soft. In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. ‘Um—begging your pardon, sir, but—um—what was you meaning to arrest the young lady for?’ ‘Trespassing, theft, and suspicion of spying,’ announced Roding fluently. ‘A thing Marthe told me of,’ Melusine answered, her attention on the garments that were still lying higgledy-piggledy, just as she had left them. ‘Me, I do not need the help of anyone.
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