The soi-disant Valade held the centre of the room now, only an uncovered but closed card-table, its surface dusty, between him and the suite at the fireplace. " "Who are you!" demanded the fugitive, sternly. She could even think of what had happened. ’ ‘It is you who is absurd,’ countered Melusine, the spark returning to her eye. Skirting the noble gardens of Montague House, (now, we need scarcely say, the British Museum,) the party speedily reached Great Russell Street,—a quarter described by Strype, in his edition of old Stow's famous Survey, "as being graced with the best buildings in all Bloomsbury, and the best inhabited by the nobility and gentry, especially the north side, as having gardens behind the houses, and the prospect of the pleasant fields up to Hampstead and Highgate; insomuch that this place, by physicians, is esteemed the most healthful of any in London. There are, then, in this sorry world, people who can be disinterestedly kind!" The doctor laughed, gave Spurlock's shoulder a pat, and left the room.
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