Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. ’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky. ‘Parbleu, but what a person you make me! One who spies. Running his hand carefully over it in search of the lock, he perceived to his dismay that it was fastened on the other side. She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed. He took her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke, divided against himself, in a voice that was forced and insincere.
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