CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon. With a cry of triumph, he rose, the sword hilt grasped in his fingers, the point swishing up towards her. He glanced down between the still narrow distance that lay between Melusine and himself, and discovered her hand there, a very small dagger within it. There was a shrill cry, instantly succeeded by a deep splash.
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