Doesn’t matter a bit to me. The monster, Wild, when he visited my dungeon last night, told me, to add to my misery, that she occupied a cell near me. How clever she was, to fool everybody so easily! Not yet had any one suspected the truth: that she was, in a certain worldly sense, only four weeks old, that her every act had been written down on paper beforehand, and that her success lay in rigidly observing the rules which she herself had drafted to govern her conduct. Lucy could sense her mental resolution to nip Michelle’s burgeoning obsession with the occult in the bud. “And how did you find us here?” “I called at Montague Street a few minutes after you had left. “Ye Gods!” she said at last. She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees.
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