He drew a little sigh of relief. ‘I’ll get the key,’ said Roding, turning abruptly. A very familiar face emerged from a crowd at the impromptu bar on the kitchen island. This spot, which still retains its name, acquired the appellation from an old crone who lived there, and who, in addition to a very equivocal character for honesty, enjoyed the reputation of being a witch. She stood face to face with him, and his voice cut across her speech and made her stop abruptly. The music throbbed into the warnings that preceded the king’s irruption. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. "Do nothing without consulting my father—your father, Thames," she implored.
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