” She felt strange confessing herself to a criminal attorney. He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte. Shotbolt?" asked Austin. ’ ‘I do not lie to you now,’ she said, near frantic at the thought of losing him. ” His shoulders relaxed. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. "There!" she cried, laughing, "that'll teach you to lay hands upon me again.
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