Just as Jack gained the entrance, he heard a man's footstep behind him, and aware that the slightest indiscretion would betray him, he halted, uncertain what to do. It had been her home for hundreds of years. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. Their flitting hands were always touching.
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