“I killed him. One has to be so careful. ‘You know?’ ‘Come, come, Melusine. ’ ‘And you believe her?’ asked Lucilla, raising her brows. She felt sharp animal teeth pierce her above her shoulder. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. But, bloodan'-'ouns! man, if ould Nick himself were to hit me a blow, I'd be afther givin' him another. The risk I run is nothing to yours. Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work.
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