For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. He knew what he knew. ‘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.
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