’ ‘Yolande, my maid?’ ‘You don’t need a maid,’ Martha said stoutly. And I have made such arrangements that at my decease tardy justice will be done my injured nephew. The night was now profoundly dark. Recovering herself, Melusine tucked the weapons out of sight, down into the deep holsters hidden under the petticoat of her riding habit, and went back into the house where Martha awaited her in some impatience. He was silent.
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