Anna jumped into a waiting hansom. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. If only this man had been her father! The world would have meant nothing; the island would have been wide enough. 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. Chapter VIII “WHITE’S” Northwards, away from the inhospitality of West Kensington, rumbled the ancient four-wheel cab, laden with luggage and drawn by a wheezy old horse rapidly approaching its last days. She also knew that he was the type who would not make a single physical overture until she pushed the correct buttons. She was certain he would hear, sleeping in the nearby castle.
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