She noticed an odd new gleam in Michelle’s eyes, a focus she had not noticed before. There you will be, in an inner temple. Huge trees obscured the view of it. She thought she had hidden well from him. ‘Forgive me, Mrs Sindlesham, but do you tell me this inheritance that Melusine has fought so hard to recover is completely wasted?’ The old lady gave him a sharp look. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. He had meant to come at his business in a roundabout way, but for that little slip. If I’d meant it, my girl, you’d be dead meat. Maggot.
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