"He's dead," exclaimed Austin. Wanting his coat, when he must have known that the pockets were empty! But the effort to talk had cost him something. The struggle was brief, and Gerald stepped aside, the pistol in his possession, while the girl Melusine stood trembling and glaring. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. If he laid his own suspicions boldly before the girl, and in the end the boy came clean, he would always be haunted by the witless cruelty of the act. ‘Bon. And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching.
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