It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. She approached this field with her usual liveliness of apprehension. A pity you did not think to tell me that part of the tale at the outset. Well, after all, he seemed to be turning the subject. Fiercely defensive, as usual. Now then, missie—’ ‘Bon,’ said Melusine, interrupting him without ceremony, and paying no attention to the muskets that were pointing at her from two directions. ’ ‘I was called in, ma’am, to catch a French spy—at least, that is what Pottiswick thought. “You are absurd,” she declared.
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