The man looked closely at Anna as she crossed the footway, and as he held her skirt from the wheel he pressed something into her hand. At least—’ ‘Don’t be more of a lunatic than you can help,’ broke in the captain, addressing himself to Melusine. ‘Well, what was I to think, miss? Martha never wrote nothing about you, and I did ask. Nothing could have been farther from Melusine’s mind. Her figure was, in some measure, hidden by a large scarf, and a deep hood drawn over the head contributed to her disguise; still it was evident, from her lofty bearing, that she had nothing in common, except an interest in their proceedings, with the crew by whom she was surrounded. She had known that Remenham House would be deserted, for Martha—released, as she had carefully explained to her charge, by her vows to God from servitude and obedience to Nicholas Charvill, a mere mortal—had begun a correspondence with a friend of her youth, Mrs Joan Ibstock, née Pottiswick. She fought him with tooth and nail. “Hey, John.
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