" CHAPTER VI. Good night. Burn your palette and your easel. ’ ‘Who is that?’ demanded Lucilla eagerly. With a small saw, conveyed to me a few days since by Thames Darrell, which I contrived to conceal upon my person, I removed a spike in the hatch, and, with the aid of some other friends, worked my way out. Sheppard, whose maternal fears drew her in another direction, hurried off to the Mint. At Boulogne they took train to Basle; next morning they breakfasted together in the buffet of that station, and thence they caught the Interlaken express, and so went by way of Spies to Frutigen. .
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