She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. “You know that I have always hated this!” She 264 looked down at Michelle’s pitifully bloody head, her body barely hanging on to its breath. ‘Are you going to tell me?’ ‘But looking for proof,’ Melusine uttered impatiently. Below was an uninspiring street, a thoroughfare of boarding-houses and apartments. ‘The secret passage!’ It did not take long to find the mechanism of the candlesconce that opened the door.
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