‘Her name is Melusine Charvill,’ Gerald began. ‘Suppose you don’t know what sort of proof she was after?’ he asked. He noted an ebony cane laid close to hand, which suggested she was able to get about. I warned her not to say a word, for it would mean the death of everyone in the Palazzo, including you. There were seven tales in all—short stories—a method of expression quite strange to her, after the immense canvases of Dickens and Hugo. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
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