‘Will you—what was it?—“blow off his head”?’ Melusine eyed her, a little uncertain. It was precisely two o'clock on the morning of Whit-monday, the 25th of May 1724, when the remarkable escape before detailed was completed: and, though it wanted full two hours to daybreak, the glimmer of a waning moon prevented it from being totally dark. ‘Do you think I do not know? What am I doing here, do you think?’ ‘That’s just exactly what I’ve been asking myself,’ he returned. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can.
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