Her first impulse was to fly to the window; and she was about to pass through it, at the risk of sharing the fate of the unfortunate lady, when her arm was grasped by some one in the act of ascending the ladder from without. It was wrenched away from Melusine’s clutching hands. She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside. There is something inconglomerate about us. Here and there, patches of flesh adhered to the bones, and the dank dripping hair hanging about what had once been the face, gave it a ghastly appearance. “I missed the hour of your release,” he said, “but I was at the Vindicator Restaurant.
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