They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. ’ They passed through a little antechamber, and Melusine sighed with relief as she entered the library next door. " "Hold!" exclaimed the carpenter, in an authoritative voice: "we can't part thus. No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy. By and by he ventured to peer into this window. "I've often heard of a secret door in this room, though I never saw it.
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