“I won’t pretend,” he said, “that this is an accident. She still had her letter of credit. “Want to see Mr. " "Respecting Thames Darrell?" observed Jack. ’ Lucilla gaped. The simile started a laugh in his throat. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern. Laughed at me, then.
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