Never mind. What could she do? Reluctantly, at a second curt command, she began to step across the uncarpeted floor, her eyes never leaving the threatening pistol. "Your servant, Sir Rowland," said the stranger, ducking his head, as he advanced. Marvel. "How so?" asked Wild, curiously. 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. The summons was instantly answered by a shop-boy.
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