They were Jonathan Wild and Quilt Arnold. ’ ‘Melusine, did you say?’ Mrs Sindlesham sighed. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. They talked lightly but confidentially until Sir John approached them with a slight frown upon his face. Top-side insurance people. ‘One of they Frenchies, that’s what I say—if it ain’t a ghost.
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