’ ‘I do not care any more about the portrait,’ Melusine said, opening the door to the attic corridor that gave off onto the row of little rooms that served as private cells for the senior nuns. Who she is I have not discovered, but she is masquerading as Melusine, and for all I know, is not even married to the man who calls himself Valade. Earles watched her anxiously. The door was fastened by a catch and a latch with an inside key, to which at night a chain and two bolts were added. The smile had become a laugh. Besides," she added, blushing yet more deeply, "it isn't a proper one to talk upon. Go away,’ came fretfully from Prudence Sindlesham, and Melusine heaved a sigh as she looked towards the butler, who was making his stately way to the door.
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