‘Oh, dearie me, you make me feel a traitor. "Aha!" exclaimed Jackson. "Hush!" she said. Both, however, having safely landed, they cautiously crossed the room, and passed down the first flight of steps in silence. When he comes he will do that raid of the pantechnicons the justice it deserves; he will picture the orderly evening scene about the Imperial Legislature in convincing detail, the coming and going of cabs and motor-cabs and broughams through the chill, damp evening into New Palace Yard, the reinforced but untroubled and unsuspecting police about the entries of those great buildings whose square and panelled Victorian Gothic streams up from the glare of the lamps into the murkiness of the night; Big Ben shining overhead, an unassailable beacon, and the incidental traffic of Westminster, cabs, carts, and glowing omnibuses going to and from the bridge. Clean water. My name is Armytage—Lord Ernest Armytage. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. I said to myself, ‘this will come. Soon I shall make my début, that it will be known that I am the real Melusine Charvill, and then I shall not require the services any longer of this imbecile of a Gérard. ’ She put in her request for this requirement immediately on returning to the little parlour downstairs, and instantly fell foul of Captain Roding again. “There was an accident with a pistol in Miss Pellissier’s room,” he said. An unwelcome idea came to him.
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