’ ‘Oh, peste,’ exclaimed Melusine, and louder, ‘Where are you? Call, that I may find you. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. Wood's. Melusine, intent on the luckless Kimble, did not care. Here a little delay occurred. But he wrote on. One only. ‘Let’s see now. Plays Beethoven, Rubenstein and all those chaps. He glanced up at Roding and met his eyes.
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