” 189 “Are you feeling okay?” She could feel a parade of ants dotting her skin. She recoiled. I wanted the time with you. He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte. ‘Yes, but quite my own fault. At this place of refuge, situated in the heart of Wapping, near the river-side, he arrived in less than an hour, in a complete state of exhaustion. It was hard to resist. Wild had escaped. His hand went to his pocket and extracted a neat silver-mounted pistol. He passed but a cursory glance over the formal certificate that identified the Frenchman before him as one André Valade, distant cousin to the Vicomte Valade.
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