"Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled. ‘Before she can think of marriage, Melusine must prove her identity. The easel and palette having been packed up, and the canvass carefully removed by Austin, the party took leave of the prisoner, who was so much abstracted that he scarcely noticed their departure. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. I was extremely subtle—in fact, as devious as Melusine. He had an objective now.
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