" "Then it was not a dream!" ejaculated Sir Rowland in a hollow voice, and as if speaking to himself. A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood. She stood face to face with him, and his voice cut across her speech and made her stop abruptly. Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work. Sebastian traveled at seventy, eighty, then one-hundred down the freeway. Her heart in her mouth, hoping against hope, Melusine made her way back to where she had left the boy. Why else?’ Gerald stared at her blankly. He reached for her, and she struck savagely.
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