witchcraft. McCann sat chewing nervously. And staring at the girl.
I began my questions, choosing at first those least likely to disturb. I asked:
"Are you truly Madame Mandilip's niece?"
"No."
"Who are you, then?"
"I do not know."
"When did you join her, and why?"
"Twenty years ago. I was in a creche, a foundling asylum at Vienna. She took me from it. She taught me
to call her my aunt. But she is not."
"Where have you lived since then?"