Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. ‘Melusine…Melusine. ’ Melusine stifled a giggle. “To the young man himself,” he answered, “no! I simply object to his calling here two or three times a week during my absence. The pause lengthened, and he had the satisfaction of seeing despair melt the set mockery of Spurlock's mouth.
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