“Last time I saw you,” he reminded her, “you spoke, did you not, of obtaining some employment in London. On seeing it, he'll deliver you a box, which it will unlock, and in which you'll find a matter of fifty guineas and a few trinkets. ‘Parbleu, but what a person you make me! One who spies. Melusine tilted her head to catch sight of her neck, and froze, staring at the image. There's a friend of Sir James—a young man, an engraver of masquerade tickets and caricatures,—his name I believe is Hogarth.
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