Chapter Fourteen
Let us return to Gussie, down in the wine-cellar at the Towers, and engaged in an inappropriately close embrace with the Book of Werth. We left her choking to death, did not we, and turning purple in the face — as Gussie herself would later confirm, not a predicament of any dignity.
Imagine the ire of Lord Werth, upon seeing his worst fears realised. He must not be blamed for losing his temper; indeed, anger rather fuelled his endeavours than otherwise.
‘Damned disobedient girl!’ he raged, laying into the Book like a man demented, though armed with nothing better than a bottle full of wine. This article very soon encountered its doom, being impatiently dashed to pieces upon the hard stone of the cellar floor. Wine flowed — not unlike a river of blood, Gussie thought, in
