They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. He had to know the truth, Melusine. You shall hear from me to-morrow. She still kicked herself for it. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. "What proof have you of the truth of this story?" inquired Trenchard.
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