Her aunt went out of the room with dignity and a rustle, and up-stairs to the fastness of her own room. " "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards. The peculiar appearance of the sky was not without some influence in awakening these terrors. Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. “Forgive me, madam,” he said stiffly, “but in such a case as this it is better that nothing in the room should be disturbed until the arrival of the police. Then Melusine jumped back into the fencer’s pose, on guard, the point of the wicked blade directed towards her enemy. What matters it? My servant, he is wounded—and by a Frenchman, if you wish to make an arrest.
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