Chapter Eight For an instant in the silence that followed, shocked into immobility, Melusine stared in horror at the body lying there so still. Capes was an exceptionally fair man of two or three-and-thirty, so ruddily blond that it was a mercy he had escaped light eyelashes, and with a minor but by no means contemptible reputation of his own. ‘This, as you see, is an identity for your cousin, André Valade. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. The Roof and the Window V. It is foolish, she murmured to herself, foolish.
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