"Where are you?" "Here," replied Mrs. ‘Good God!’ uttered Roding. Rousing himself, he went to the door. " "Are you sure of that," inquired Jackson. For the present, he murmured his farewells, and turning, caught Hilary’s eye and walked away, crossing the ballroom to move into the less opulent, and less crowded, saloon next door where servants were dispensing refreshments. It was difficult to get right. He did not move. No sterner head was ever beheld beneath the cowl of a monk, or the bonnet of an inquisitor. Swiftly he looked back to Melusine and found she had whisked to the window, dragging a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve and hastily blowing her nose.
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