“It’s—private. Glancing at each other, they rose from their seats and ventured to address the captain. “I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. She was almost tempted to tell him, if only to see the cracks of surprise and incredulity break the immobility of his yellow countenance. ’ ‘Ah, but I’m thinking as how this here house ain’t the best spot for an operation of that kind, missie,’ explained the sergeant, and Melusine noted that his men exchanged anguished glances.
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