But—but how?’ ‘Can you write?’ Gerald asked, digging into one of his capacious pockets and bringing out a leather ring purse. ‘First I must see Jacques, and—’ ‘No need for that,’ intervened Roding, grasping her arm and trying to drag her to the door. Blueskin therefore had nothing to stop him. ‘Now,’ she said, in an imperious manner that so much reminded him of Melusine that he was obliged to suppress a grin, ‘I can see you properly. “Annabel;” he moaned. Visible underneath his collar were some metal tags. “When they tap the roof,” she said, in a voice of authority, “you are to come out. Yet she held her tongue. It had, as it were, blown up at the concussion of his first step.
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