Books were always sliding and slipping, clumsy objects to hold. The imbecile. It was of no use, she let him do it as she could not be strangled. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. Swiftly he looked back to Melusine and found she had whisked to the window, dragging a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve and hastily blowing her nose. The sight of the thief-taker increased the fury of the mob to a fearful degree. In a flash, Melusine had jumped forward and clamped it to the floor with one booted foot. Natives brought him an equal amount from the neighbouring islands. Let—it—fall. Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously. On one side of the handbill a print of the reigning sovereign, Anne, had been pinned over the portrait of William the Third, whose aquiline nose, keen eyes, and luxuriant wig, were just visible above the diadem of the queen.
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