" "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. " He had now gained the high road. "Not a syllable," replied Wild. Mrs. ‘It is all the fault of that lantern. As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her. ” “I promise,” he answered heartily. ” They entered the place, a pleasant little café of the sort to be met with in the outlying parts of Paris. What else was there lurked in shadows and deep places; if in some mood of reverie it came out into the light, it was presently overwhelmed and hustled back again into hiding. Even Blueskin looked on with anxiety.
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