Then to the Feathers, in Drury Lane. The estates must, ere long, revert to Sir Rowland. Who she is I have not discovered, but she is masquerading as Melusine, and for all I know, is not even married to the man who calls himself Valade. The streets were deserted as they drove past familiar sites. . Great stone staircases leading no one knew whither, and long gloomy passages, impressed the occasional visitor with the idea that he was traversing a building of vast extent; and, though this was not the case in reality, the deception was so cleverly contrived that it seldom failed of producing the intended effect. You must say farewell to her, for I cannot. From a bi-secting street came shouting and music.
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