It isn’t illusions—for us. “Annabel!” He looked at her thoughtfully. There was a tearing sound as the canvas gave way, and the precious portrait ripped apart as the top of the Frenchman’s head came through it. But her cries, instead of moving her assailant's compassion, only added to his fury. His eyes swept the company, and fell upon Melusine with a glare. Soon I shall make my début, that it will be known that I am the real Melusine Charvill, and then I shall not require the services any longer of this imbecile of a Gérard.
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