"Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. "Tom! Hey, Tom!" The Chinese cook thrust his head into the dining room. His tongue was hot. He glanced at the ruins of his High Priestess. ‘Oh, my God, she’s gone!’ Wrenching his hand from his friend’s slackened grasp, he darted for the door, Roding behind him. And mind, your life,—more than your life—hangs upon your choice. He heard Rollo's stump beat a gentle tattoo on the floor. Even Melusine, armed with special knowledge, and the enthusiastic assistance of Jack Kimble’s strong arm, had taken almost half a day to locate the place. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane.
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