The Red Room. " "Zounds! David Pugh, don't you know your old friend and countryman?" exclaimed the carpenter. ‘No!’ Melusine snapped as he tugged at the thing. It was scarcely likely that she would have accepted his aid. Maggot, who promptly interposed her cudgel. The galleries adjoining it were crowded with spectators,—so was the roof of a large tavern, then the only house standing at the end of the Edgeware Road,—so were the trees,—the walls of Hyde Park,—a neighbouring barn, a shed,—in short, every available position. "Nothing whatever," rejoined the thief-taker, coldly. The room was worse than pokey, it was shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, wholly uninspiring.
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