’ ‘But you say that I was born here,’ objected Melusine. ’ ‘Oh, don’t you?’ Gerald said grimly. I deemed it more prudent to send him to the Dark House than to bring him here, in case of any search after him by his adoptive father—the carpenter Wood. Every house-top, every window, every wall, every projection, had its occupants. “But your sister?” he asked. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered.
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