The library was on the ground floor, Melusine recalled from the previous visit, for she had searched through a desk in a room filled with bookshelves of leatherbound volumes. There was nothing in the pockets of the coat. The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. The island was snake-free. “I knew,” she said, in a low despairing tone, “that people would talk. “If you say so, Lucy. They had heard nothing, seen nothing.
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