’ ‘You mean monsieur le baron, the General Charvill, my grandfather?’ Melusine laid aside on the table the letter she had been studying and turned so that the frame of her nun’s wimple no longer obscured her view. Why would militia be infesting the place? And he must by now be aware of my interest. But you will, you will. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. She addressed her letters, meditated on them for a time, and then took them out and posted them.
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