I found a blue stone on the beach once. It seems Valade visited him that day to present his credentials, and Charvill posted straight off to inform his great-uncle. Then instinct took over. Not a breath was drawn. He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte. Just an idea of mine.
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