Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked. Did I not say so, Hilary?’ Melusine’s glance shot across to the newcomer, and found a petite blonde standing there, very fashionably attired in a velvet mantel over an apple-green robe, the furred hood framing a face alive with mischief. The reddish-haired young man contributed allusions to the Hegelian philosophy that momentarily confused the discussion. “What are you doing?” He cried. After all, it was what she had been praying for—and Annabel could not have known her address.
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