But there was only Gosse, still struggling with the picture, looking dazedly towards Melusine and the lad he had shot, then away towards the sounds of pursuit, and back again. ‘What’s wrong, miss? Ain’t I done right?’ Melusine’s mind was reeling, but she reached out and seized his wrist. “This is mere nonsense, mere tongue-tied fear!” she said. . . Diane did not hear the footsteps on her brick patio or the audible click of the back door lock being compromised. She was guided into the dock and prompted by a helpful police inspector.
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