’ ‘It is money you mean, no?’ Melusine asked with scorn. The sunshine broke across each shoulder, one lance striking the yellow face of a Chinaman, queueless and dressed in European clothes, the other lance falling squarely upon the face of the man he had journeyed thirteen thousand miles to find. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback.
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