Martin’s eyes seemed about to pop out of his head. Twelve years, then, have elapsed since the date of the occurrences detailed in the preceding division of this history. It is only a matter of time before he presents himself to whoever has the deeds to Remenham House—a lawyer I presume—and claims that property for his wife’s. Herculis was surrounded by an archipelago, which local chroniclers had claimed was teeming with mermaids. He knew me, Nigel. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice.
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