—BRENDON. In your heart you know very well that this is absurd. " "Your prisoner!" echoed Jonathan, derisively. “Is it any one you know?” Brendon asked. No, don’t interrupt me. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. They did not speak until he had driven past town limits and were on the highway. . “Don’t be too sure of that,” she answered enigmatically. Melusine tilted her head to catch sight of her neck, and froze, staring at the image.
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