Lucy entered the house by picking the back door lock with the slim jim. He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte. Probably she was married years ago and is now merely on the way to her husband's house. “It is rather odd,” he said, “but I always thought that your name was Annabel and hers Anna.
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