He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. "I imagine I must have a hundred rolls—all the old fellows. "I don't know how it is," he added in a low voice to Thames, as they were left alone, "but I've a strange foreboding of ill.
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