I can no longer bear to address you by that formal madame. "The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood. He was braver than her husband, who paced and cowered in the corners of the once-sunny Palazzo. He seemed happy with her, finding her proper and seemly. She had just managed to reach it, grabbing for the handle, when the enemy’s cracked command halted her. I deemed it more prudent to send him to the Dark House than to bring him here, in case of any search after him by his adoptive father—the carpenter Wood. However the taste of the architecture may be questioned, which was the formal French style of the period, the general effect was imposing. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. "Oh lord! I hope not.
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