" "You'd better send him," jeered the turnkey. His chest heaved violently, and big tears coursed rapidly down his cheeks. And if you’ve any notion—’ ‘Yes, it is upstairs,’ Melusine agreed, crossing to the library door. The idiots are marching through the streets in processions from town to town, whipping their own backs until they are covered in blood, spreading the bloody Pestilence wherever they go! The dead pile in the streets like timber. You sent back my Christmas checks. Have you been away from Morningside Park?” “I’m not interrupting you?” “You are. All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual.
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