“I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house. ” “Your husband,” he answered bluntly. Who is it?” The man came a little further into the room. This started a thought moving. "A man!" "At your service, my dear," replied the jailer. Such pretty manners, she thought. A live man. He probably imagines himself to be a thousand times worse off than he actually is. It was just such a bedroom as she would have chosen for herself. ‘I never met a rat what wandered about the place with a lantern, I didn’t,’ grumbled the old lodgekeeper aggrievedly. ‘Jacques! This—this bête he attacks me, and you stand there and you do nothing.
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