“MY DEAR MISS PELLISSIER,— “To-morrow the six months will be up. ‘That’s my pet name. There is a button loose on that coat under your pillow. The barmaids had too strongly appealed to his sense of novelty. For she and this old lady became at once friends. You are a girl with very little. ” There came a silence again. She sighed with relief. He had studied alchemy and astronomy, was a capable painter, and even wrote music. At the Palazzo she had been confined to her own sunny windowed quarters most of the time, but she had the entire run of the inside of the manor. ” He uttered thoughtfully. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. “Oh goody. "Fire!—murder—thieves!—I've got one of 'em!" "Come along," cried Jack.
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