"So did I," answered Jack; "we had better move on. . . "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. ‘What we have to find out is whether or not the wretched female is in fact Lord Charvill’s granddaughter. Husbands and wives, young lovers, and mothers with strollers thronged in the streets, all savoring the fine cool weather. His demeanour then was sober enough to lend colour to that belief. I am a physician first, which gives the man in me a secondary part. But it don't much matter—though he's a devilish shrewd fellow, and might have helped me out of a difficulty, had any occurred. ‘Not if I heard him aright. Who she is I have not discovered, but she is masquerading as Melusine, and for all I know, is not even married to the man who calls himself Valade.
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