" "Permit me to see it, Sir James!" requested Jack. Melusine—the real Melusine—evidently did not see him immediately, for her attention was on her descent from the high vehicle. Her two new friends did their best to entertain her. About the Abbey and Abingdon Street stood the outer pickets and detachments of the police, their attention all directed westward to where the women in Caxton Hall, Westminster, hummed like an angry hive. “Who tied this scarf here?” he asked, looking up. The coffin was lowered into the grave, and the mourners departed.
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