’ Melusine shrugged, and crossed to the plain door beside which hung a bell. The stairs creaked as Mark rushed down them. Go to it; and the best of luck!" He went out. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. Section 1. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street.
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