Do you know, I envy you. I ought never to have thought of it. You’ll end there one day, mark my words. No further responsibility whatever. “I hope you have not come for that. ’ Melusine stared. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. And then came the vile experience of being forced and borne along the street to the police-station. ‘General, we do not know.
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