’ ‘Melusine, did you say?’ Mrs Sindlesham sighed. “Go on!” she commanded. ‘What in Hades d’ye mean, thanks to me? Want to blame anyone, blame that rapscallion who calls himself your father. He's going to ask you to Prom. He held down the light, and a moment afterwards beckoned, with a blanched cheek, to Rowland. You called yourself a murderess. Things now began to wear so serious a aspect that a messenger was secretly despatched to the Savoy for troops, and in half an hour a regiment of the guards arrived, who by dint of great exertion succeeded in partially dispersing the tumultuous assemblage. .
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