The one I have is a duplicate. . ’ Mrs Sindlesham’s mouth dropped open. The Pellissiers had been an old family in Hampshire, while his grandfather had driven a van. As he looked in this direction, Wild gave him a significant wink, the meaning of which he was not slow to comprehend. Melusine sighed with relief and set to work by the light of the lantern. ‘Champion?’ ‘The lad you saw following her. Well aware that the doors in this passage were much stronger than those in the entry he had just quitted he was neither surprised nor dismayed to find it fastened by a lock of unusual size. ’ About to hurry from the little parlour, Melusine remembered Mrs Ibstock. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart.
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