She wondered wildly why she had stood up. Here was a hole as wide as a church-door. He was chained to the ground, but started up at their approach. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. ‘Jacques, are you dead? Jacques, do you hear me?’ Melusine put her cheek to his lips, and felt the faint warmth of his breath.
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