Capes spoke casually of their plans for work. She had first picked up the fiddle back when it was still called a viol, that was how long she had been at it. Melusine glanced at the walls as she sped down the four flights of stairs, and noted with relief that some paintings remained. She made a step forward. “Please play something for us,” Carol asked, her eyes aglow. ‘The old man who lives here, idiot. And the less “anything” happened the better. Swiftly following the sound of knocking, she crossed right and passed through a door near the windows—and found herself in the bookroom. “The rarefied air? I thought you had a better head.
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