Voices floated down, but there was no sound of pursuit. “And how did you find us here?” “I called at Montague Street a few minutes after you had left. “I must explain to her. Your life is like a funeral March. “I never dreamt!” she said. Small wonder she had learned to be self-reliant. "Sir Rowland must be gone. 1703. But tell her this, too. The money will last longer, and—it won’t bother you. More strange stories were told of it than of any other house in London. Keep your eye upon the lad. “If I am to turn you into a vampire, she cannot know. CHAPTER XVI.
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