Any natural fineness would be numbed by drink. A small voice greeted her, hissing. Yet her hands dropped, and she sighed deeply. “Why destroy me, child? There are so many secrets I 231 could tell you. She felt sickeningly empty. Then Courtlaw looked across at her with a white puzzled face. To tell you the truth, he spoke to me very seriously upon the subject. “Well?” he asked her tersely. The spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares. He's had a hard knock somewhere; and until he is strong enough to walk, we must keep his interest away from that thought. Still, I suppose Melusine can always sell the house.
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