She could not judge its direction, and began to move swiftly along the bookshelves, her hand running behind her across the spines of the calfbound volumes. “Or I wouldn’t have said anything about it. He was conscious of a quickening of his heartbeat and the familiar rise of adrenalin that sent his senses soaring in anticipation. The Well Hole. Diving towards it, he tried to press against the rivulet that was seeping from it, hampered mightily by Melusine’s fingers, which were grasping at his other hand. . ’ ‘Remenham House,’ exclaimed Trodger, who had been watching this interchange open-mouthed.
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