‘André? Que dit-il?’ ‘My wife does not understand,’ said the fellow, frowning deeply. In this way he crossed one or two public gardens and a bowling-green,—the neighbourhood of Clerkenwell then abounded in such places of amusement,—passed the noted Ducking Pond, where Black Mary had been frequently immersed; and, striking off to the left across the fields, arrived in a few minutes at his destination. She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. ‘Then I am not mad in the least. I went to the theatre that night. ” “I have been abroad,” he said. Though nearly dark, there was still light enough left to enable him to discern surrounding objects.
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