In doing this, he chanced to raise his eyes and half fancied he beheld, shaded by a pillar at the extremity of the western aisle, the horrible countenance of the thief-taker. ‘Hilary!’ The captain appeared, alert at the note in his major’s voice as Gerald had known he would be. He glanced down between the still narrow distance that lay between Melusine and himself, and discovered her hand there, a very small dagger within it. Little things, almost impalpable, had happened to justify that doubt; something in his manner had belied his words. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. She held out her hand frankly. Wood, disdainfully.
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