The real ‘Alcide’,” she wound up with a faint smile across the table at him, “is here. ‘Well,’ began Captain Roding, looking at Melusine, ‘you know those nuns of yours took up Valade—I mean, Gosse—and put him to bed to mend his wound, and I posted a guard outside his room so he couldn’t escape, for Gerald told you all that. His horse, which had apparently gone to sleep, preferred to remain where he was. The wheel and the navigating instruments were sternward, under a spread of heavy canvas, a protection against rain and sun.
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