‘Why don’t you?’ Melusine frowned at him, grasping the dagger more firmly. “I saw him stagger and sink down, and the pistol was smoking still in my hand. Buried under various ancestral sixteenths, smothered under modern thought, liberty of action and bewildering variety of flesh-pots, it was still alive to the extent that it needed only his present state to resuscitate it in all its peculiar force. I told her it was the end. Could she understand what she was talking about? Luckily it was a second-class carriage and the ordinary fellowtravellers were not there.
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