For a long time neither spoke again. “MY DEAR MISS PELLISSIER,— “To-morrow the six months will be up. And let ush go back to our brandewyn, and hollandsche genever. ” “It is Number 8, Cavendish Square,” she answered simply. One thing—he could be thankful for that—the peak of his misfortunes had been reached; the world might come to an end now and not matter in the least. . I’ve had the rarest luck and fallen on my feet. Now go. At length, about three o'clock, as the first glimmer of dawn became visible through the barred casements of the round-house, the rattling of bolts and chains at the outer door told that some one was admitted. Spurlock had better stick to the bungalow. We know London, and you are a stranger here. McClintock stared into the bowl of his pipe and Spurlock into his coffee cup.
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