Presently repellance grew under the frozen mask of astonishment and dissipated it. All along the wooden benches before it sat a profusion of soldiery, a collection of barbers in attendance, busily employed in replaiting and powdering their hair ready for a military review scheduled for this afternoon. She was listed for the raid—she was informed it was to be a raid upon the House of Commons, though no particulars were given her—and told to go alone to 14, Dexter Street, Westminster, and not to ask any policeman to direct her. What had shifted his casual interest was the visible prospect of a party of three who were coming down the packet gangplank. Melusine flung herself down the rest of the steps and through the doorway. ‘Who me, sir? Lor’ no, sir. Why did I not realise it at once? It just shows how one should not judge by appearances. And she was about as capable of intelligent argument as a runaway steam-roller. I defy you to explain it away.
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