"The Chevalier shall hear of this," whispered the woollen-draper. Glancing at the finger-post over the cage, which has been described as situated at the outskirts of the village, and seeing no directions to Dollis Hill, he made fresh inquiries as to where it lay, from an elderly man, who was standing with another countryman near the little prison. Do you know this, Sir?" he added, taking a key from his pocket. “You’re not a man for me—not one of a sex, I mean. “You know,” he went on, “this doesn’t seem to me to end anything. Let’s go up to my room.
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