“I wonder which of us is right,” she said. ‘Gérard—’ ‘What now?’ he asked, rife with suspicion. Well, I'll take myself off. “I shall have to go through the building. You were only one room removed from the library, see. “What of her? Have you quarrelled with her?” The girl shook her head. Blueskin is booked. I believe that her ladyship is going to Carey House, and on to the Marquis of Waterford’s ball,” he added, hastily consulting a diary on the hall table. While this took place, while Quilt thundered at the inner door, and Jack drew back the bolts of the outer, a deep, manly voice was heard chanting—as if in contempt of the general uproar—the following strain:— With pipe and punch upon the board, And smiling nymphs around us; No tavern could more mirth afford Than old Saint Giles's round-house! The round-house! the round-house! The jolly—jolly round-house! "The jolly, jolly round-house!" chorussed Sheppard, as the last bar yielded to his efforts.
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