Not so Gosse. For a few days she was fascinated by the place, exploring the moldy rooms, the weird treasures hiding in forgotten trousseaus. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. All four people moved a little nervously into the drawing-room, maintaining a sort of fluttered amiability of sound and movement. "His shin may need rubbing. It is not at all comme il faut. ‘If it is that your men there are going to arrest us, then why do they not do so?’ ‘Left to myself, I’d let them,’ he replied grimly. Muffling up his face, Jack turned away; but he had not proceeded many steps when he heard a man reading aloud an account of his escapes from a newspaper. "You are complimentary, Sir Rowland," returned the other, with a grim smile. " "That wouldn't answer my purpose," replied Jonathan, savagely.
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