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. She felt that Ann Veronica had duped her in that dream, and now that she had come up to London she might as well speak her mind. This light did not remain stationary, but could be seen at one moment glimmering through the rents in the roof, and at another shining through the cracks in the wall, or the broken panes of the casement. “By Jove!” he exclaimed. Suddenly he stopped short. ‘Well, I can see you won’t let it alone, so what do you propose to do about the wench?’ ‘I’ll die before I let it alone,’ Gerald vowed. ’ ‘What, Madame Valade?’ demanded Gerald. Some one was standing beside him.
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