’ ‘Why should Gérard care?’ sneered Gosse. ‘Would it so? What sort of a girl is she, then?’ ‘She’s a consummate devil,’ Gerald declared roundly. There was first the Avenue, which ran in a consciously elegant curve from the railway station into an undeveloped wilderness of agriculture, with big, yellow brick villas on either side, and then there was the pavement, the little clump of shops about the postoffice, and under the railway arch was a congestion of workmen’s dwellings. You skulk in shadows, following an émigré. Some rustic hand had written upon the door "JACK SHEPPARD'S CAGE;" and upon the wall was affixed a large placard describing his person, and offering a reward for his capture. Gerald, intent on his trail, ignored it. The library was on the ground floor, Melusine recalled from the previous visit, for she had searched through a desk in a room filled with bookshelves of leatherbound volumes.
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