" And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL. The struggle was brief, and Gerald stepped aside, the pistol in his possession, while the girl Melusine stood trembling and glaring. You should have more. I might have known it. She was gone. Then came the cable that you were in Canton, ill, but not dangerously so. ‘The credentials, milor’,’ he ventured. Brendon,” he said, “may I rob you of your guest just for the drive home? I have only a few hours in England, and Miss Pellissier is an old friend. The big gray spaces of London, the shop-lit, greasy, shining streets, had become very remote; the biological laboratory with its work and emotions, the meetings and discussions, the rides in hansoms with Ramage, were like things in a book read and closed. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes bright. Miss Stanley, it was manifest, had given him Ann Veronica’s address.
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