‘Parbleu, the bullet is still inside you,’ Melusine guessed, remembering how the Mother Abbess had diagnosed Leonardo’s suffering when he had first come to the convent. He had heard nothing. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. While he thus vented his rage, the door again opened, and Quilt Arnold rushed into the room, bleeding, and half-dressed. It was a large room, about twenty feet long and fifteen broad, and had an arched stone roof. "My plan is a very simple one," rejoined the thief-taker smiling bitterly.
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