"Von't you hear me?—ough! ough!" demanded Sharples, after a pause. ’ ‘I see now how it was that Marthe knew of the secret passage,’ Melusine said. " "Holloa! my hearty!" cried Ben, starting to his feet. One never knew when it would be necessary to resume her disguise. . In this way he crossed one or two public gardens and a bowling-green,—the neighbourhood of Clerkenwell then abounded in such places of amusement,—passed the noted Ducking Pond, where Black Mary had been frequently immersed; and, striking off to the left across the fields, arrived in a few minutes at his destination. .
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