‘But what will happen to Lucia? Are we to kill her?’ ‘Of course not. “I want to speak to you about a little thing, Vee,” said Mr. Melusine fetched her stool and plonked it down next to her great-aunt’s chair. ‘I can answer that. I want him as my friend. He well knows that but two lives—those of Thames Darrell and Sir Rowland Trenchard,—stand between you and the vast possessions of the family. Never was there another girl like this one. She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella. He had deliberately saved it for last. There was a pint of champagne and a quart of mineral water (both taboo) at his elbow. He thrust the smaller weapon into a scabbard that hung from his belt.
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