There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. His eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy; he let out a sigh. In the midst of the holy place, which he had formerly profaned, lay the body of his unfortunate mother, and he could not help looking upon her untimely end as the retributive vengeance of Heaven for the crime he had committed. He would have some sport with Mr. At the back of her mind, Melusine noted an odd look in the boy’s face, but there was no time to explore it. Already she missed all of her fine things, her linens and leather bound books. There was no mistaking his intentions this time.
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