CHAPTER XXVI. "You have always been, far dearer to me than myself," replied Mrs. John said nothing. A snarl contorted his features, and he marched up to it, laying his pistol down on the marquetry table so that his hands were free to grab the picture off the wall. “I want to show you something. He had to know the truth, Melusine. Buried under various ancestral sixteenths, smothered under modern thought, liberty of action and bewildering variety of flesh-pots, it was still alive to the extent that it needed only his present state to resuscitate it in all its peculiar force. Because of the woman’s pregnant status, a panic had spread in the county that a serial murderer was afoot, but she had made sure to copy the crimes of a famous serial killer that she had read about in the paper to cover herself and mislay blame. He had grabbed her in the stream, embracing her naked body tightly, running his hands over her breasts and clutching her buttocks.
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