Something unpardonable is laid to my charge. What had Brewis Charvill to say to that, Gerald?’ ‘He had nothing to say to it. He grabbed her wrist and prised the weapon from her fingers, ignoring her other hand that clawed at his to try to retain the trophy. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters. ‘Silence,’ he warned again, with a prod of the dagger at her heart.
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