The dusky obscurity of the room was twice welcome. By this time, the door was unlocked, and drawing his sword, Quilt entered the cell. “Quite alone, sir. It appeared from what he said that he had been captured when asleep,—that his liquor had been drugged,—otherwise, he would never have allowed himself to be taken alive. “What has he to do with it?” “He was your sister’s master—her friend. Of what use was the temporary set-back to memory, when it always returned with redoubled poignancy? Then came another thought, astonishing. Michelle repeated herself brashly, “A vampire, silly. I hope she falls off the face of the planet.
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