Here we go, thought Gerald. "Take this key to Baptist Kettleby. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. ’ ‘Your husband?’ Gerald tutted. Mike and Shari sat at the kitchen table eating potato chips. “I have had adventures—oh, more than one, I can assure you. She fluttered it with a trembling hand, averting her eyes from his, and he could hear her uneven breath behind it. They were on their way back home, or so she had thought. ” She pointed to the envelope still resting upon the mantelpiece. ‘Merci,’ Melusine said, and smiled.
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