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White’s boarding-house in Russell Square. You cannot—shall not retreat. She would ignore him. "Devil!" cried Jack; "that blow shall cost you your life. He was about to cut the sergeant short, when his eye fell on a gentleman walking along Piccadilly, his manner uncertain, his eyes shifting as if he sought something out. Lucy looked at her reflection with a measure of awe. He then barred and double-locked the door, took out the key, (a precautionary measure which, with a grim smile, he said he never omitted,) thrust it into his vest, and motioning the couple to follow him, led the way to the inner room. She could not go to him with a preachment against strong drink; she knew from experience that such a plan would be wasted effort.
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