” “So it would have been at the English Embassy,” Courtlaw answered, “but the place to which you went was not the English Embassy. What was the name on those marriage lines you showed me?’ ‘M—Melusine,’ stammered the woman, her countenance yet registering shock. That turned her mind to the more generalized aspects of her perplexities again. ‘I know that, miss. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin.
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