Entering the outer gate, and traversing the broad gravel walk before-mentioned, Jack ascended the steps, and was admitted, on feeing the porter, by another iron gate, into the hospital. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. “I wonder if there are any good women really. “Where am I?” he muttered. He was introduced to Brendon, and a chair was brought by an attentive waiter. “You must be the Miss Pellissier of whom David has told me so much,” he said, shyly. A pig, yes, a little. Rushing towards the entrance of the well-hole, Blueskin touched the secret spring.
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