’ Gerald did not speak, but there was a look in his face that made Melusine glad she had at last had the courage to confide in him. He never asked questions; he never addressed his companions; and frequently he took off his cap and wiped his forehead. . She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. It was a neat, efficient-looking room, with a writing-table placed with a business-like regard to the window, and a bookcase surmounted by a pig’s skull, a dissected frog in a sealed bottle, and a pile of shiny, black-covered note-books.
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