And if you’ve any notion—’ ‘Yes, it is upstairs,’ Melusine agreed, crossing to the library door. Any financial return was inconsiderable against the promise of this psychological treat. On the right, stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened: on the left, a meagre constable had divested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm. His friendship seemed a thing worth having. Wood, now more buxom and more gorgeously arrayed than ever,—as well as a young and beautiful female, in whom he was at no loss to recognise the carpenter's daughter. "Take care, Jack," shouted Thames, who witnessed the occurrence; "that plank isn't properly balanced. Kneebone and Mr. Wood, by whom it was formerly occupied. “Amazing. Their subsequent conversation is outside the scope of our story. CHAPTER X. .
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