A long and secret conference then took place between the thief-taker and his myrmidons, after which they were severally dismissed. Both girls looked pale and listless. ‘Will you—what was it?—“blow off his head”?’ Melusine eyed her, a little uncertain. Melusine choked on a laugh, and Gerald at once seized the initiative, speaking in a tone deliberately soothing. He seated himself before it. Kneebone, a woollen-draper in Wych Street, with whose pockets, it appears, Jack, when a lad, made a little too free. The moment he was out in the hall, Ruth sat up hugging and rocking her body in delight. He sent a speculative glance at the immobile yellow face. Then she would be dead, and that was no use. She resumed her on guard position, and glaring steadily at him, waited again.
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