No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. She was carefree. Who she is I have not discovered, but she is masquerading as Melusine, and for all I know, is not even married to the man who calls himself Valade. “Nigel, don’t you understand. But then, because my papa had no money, you understand, he sent me to a convent. " "I see," remarked Kneebone.
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