’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky. She would have to leave very soon. The white haze of poison clouded her eyes. . Do you know, Ann Veronica, it is all a lie about your birth certificate; a forgery—and fooling at that. The sound of her flying feet brought Gerald leaping for the door. Sheila, a normally sound sleeper, woke one night to find both her husband and her foster daughter had snuck from their beds, and this infuriated her. ’ She threw a melting look at Roding. .
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