But her words were not addressed to Melusine. “Annabel at last,” he shouted. Perhaps I've been mad all these years; I don't know. She reminded him sometimes of the one holy and ineffable Madonna, at others of Berode, the great courtezan of her day, who had sent kings away from her doors, and had just announced her intention of ending her life in a convent. She tiptoed to the stand and gathered up the manuscripts which she carried to a chair by the window. The latter appeared to contain several papers, which Jack carefully put by, in the hope that they might turn out of importance in a scheme of vengeance which he meditated against the thief-taker.
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