She shrank from him as he gripped her hand more forcibly. But if she smiled at all it was with her eyes. “Anything is better than this—this stifled life down here. Could you just let me in? I have a surprise for him. Sheppard, horror-stricken. At the same moment a martial flourish, proceeding from cow's horns, tin canisters filled with stones, bladders and cat-gut, with other sprightly, instruments, was struck up, and, enlivened by this harmonious accompaniment, the troop reached its destination in the best possible spirits for an encounter. ‘Jacques? You have done it? He is alive?’ ‘Oh, he’s alive, all right,’ confirmed the sergeant, putting the petrified Pottiswick—stockstill and staring in horror at the dagger—firmly out of his way and taking his place before Melusine. I admit it.
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