“Ever yours, “ANNABEL. ” “She doesn’t develop a specialty. As a dog eats grass. ‘What is this proof?’ ‘I will not tell you. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern. Their colloquy was ended abruptly by the apparition of Miss Klegg at the further door. Would you mind drawing them back?” Ennison sprang up, but he never reached the curtains.
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