On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over. And for Suzanne and the vicomte, I am nothing. No girl with a face like that…. And, if ever I'm brought to the gallows, I shall lay my death at her door. ‘Whereas my need was very great indeed. The library was on the ground floor, Melusine recalled from the previous visit, for she had searched through a desk in a room filled with bookshelves of leatherbound volumes.
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