“Ferringhall, were you or were you not dining last night at a certain restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiennes with—la petite Pellissier?” Now indeed Sir John was moved. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. The ragged edge. One of the things that most surprised him in her was her capacity for blind obedience. "Have a little patience, Sir," rejoined the jailer. As if it were she, and not Melusine, who had been hurt by the imposters. "Square accounts with the rascal who got up the sham arrest; and, if he don't tip the cole without more ado, give him a taste of the pump, that's all. CHAPTER XVIII.
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