“I cannot thank you, Sir John,” she said. Monsieur Valade heaved a gusty sigh, and Gerald, with heavy diplomacy and a forced heartiness of manner, turned the subject. That’s where you go wrong. He said nothing. “I am afraid—I really think that one of us ought to go with you,” he said. ‘Jacques? You have done it? He is alive?’ ‘Oh, he’s alive, all right,’ confirmed the sergeant, putting the petrified Pottiswick—stockstill and staring in horror at the dagger—firmly out of his way and taking his place before Melusine. ‘I’ve had enough of this.
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