At half after five that afternoon the doctor and his friend McClintock entered the office of the Victoria. Sure Mike!" At the hotel he wrote a long letter to his chief, explaining every detail of the fizzle. "Who's there?" cried Rachel. The galleries adjoining it were crowded with spectators,—so was the roof of a large tavern, then the only house standing at the end of the Edgeware Road,—so were the trees,—the walls of Hyde Park,—a neighbouring barn, a shed,—in short, every available position. The note-passer lagged behind with her. CHAPTER XVI.
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