“So you’re the one my son has been talking about. “Well, I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. Anna was not “Alcide” of the “Ambassador’s,” whose subtly demure smile and piquant glances had called him to her side from the moment of their first meeting. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. The blue jaws suggested courage and tenacity. I had a perfect shoal of callers. “Hi Lucy.
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