What the devil is her name, now we know she isn’t you?’ ‘Yolande,’ supplied Melusine. ‘No, no, I am convinced your very first theory was right. But now it’s beads by the cask—like the hold of a West African trader. It was denied him, for as he closed his eyes—though but for an instant—the whole scene of his former visit to the place rose before him. Capes was something superadded. And in those days, too, he used to help her mother with her gardening, and hover about her while she stood on the ladder and hammered creepers to the scullery wall. Assessing him as harmless, she had remained friendly, albeit aloof. This intelligence, which she instantly communicated to the carpenter, drove him almost frantic. ’ ‘I’m afraid you are right.
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