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She watched, puzzled, as her cavalier frowned at the newcomer, glancing from him to Melusine and back again. ‘Be quiet, man,’ snapped Hilary, watching the Frenchman go by with the lad after him. He's on the ragged edge. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. Her husband sat in a chair beside her bed, his head in his hands.
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