For a time she could scarcely believe he was gone. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. ’ Melusine hesitated. Surely he was imagining this picture. “I really owe him something of an apology. ‘You do not believe me?’ ‘I do not. All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual. ’ *** Gerald Alderley stepped out of a house he had been visiting in Hamilton Place and the door closed behind him. .
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