" "So it seems," observed the woollen-draper, "and for every one else, too. "At a place we call the Dark House at Queenhithe," answered Jonathan, "a sort of under-ground tavern or night-cellar, close to the river-side, and frequented by the crew of the Dutch skipper, to whose care he's to be committed. Hetty, looking out of the window—she always smoked her after-breakfast cigarette at the window for the benefit of the less advanced section of Morningside Park society—and trying not to raise objections, saw Miss Stanley going down toward the shops. Wood having laid hold of the canvass-bag. It is impossible. He could only wonder that this amazing thing had remained so long a secret to him. Opening the door, he found it littered with straw, on which he threw himself, and instantly fell asleep. .
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