"It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," thought the carpenter, turning his attention to the child, whose feeble struggles and cries proclaimed that, as yet, life had not been extinguished by the hardships it had undergone. The youth produced a crumpled-up card from his waistcoat pocket. He then barred and double-locked the door, took out the key, (a precautionary measure which, with a grim smile, he said he never omitted,) thrust it into his vest, and motioning the couple to follow him, led the way to the inner room. ’ ‘It is you who is absurd,’ countered Melusine, the spark returning to her eye. Every moment or two he bent over his patient. Still, here we are in this dingy, foggy city.
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