‘Does Charvill know that this Melusine of yours is here?’ The question distracted Gerald. “Ever yours, “ANNABEL. Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. “You are really a good Samaritan,” she declared. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. "How do you know that?" rejoined Jack. “You must arrest me!” she gasped, breathlessly, insisting insanely on a point already carried; “you shall!” The police-station at the end seemed to Ann Veronica like a refuge from unnamable disgraces.
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