"Ay. As matters now stand, I'm only a thief, not a blackguard. "Would I had never seen either of you!" cried Jack, rising and pacing the apartment with a hurried step. He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte. ‘I am glad it is you, because you can help me. His literary instincts began to stir. The condition of the rooms was indescribably filthy and disgusting; nor were the habits of the occupants much more cleanly. But in a moment, it was tucked under his arm and, raising the pistol again, he gestured towards the door opposite the one where Melusine stood. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed.
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