” “What ball?” The question was rhetorical. As they approached London Bridge, the thief-taker whispered Van Galgebrok, who acted as steersman, to make for a particular arch—near the Surrey shore. ’ ‘Certainly he is not a friend,’ Melusine agreed, ‘but he has gone, after all. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern. ’ ‘In this case, I do not at all wish to marry you,’ Melusine threw at him furiously. Trodger might not need his hair dressed, but the flagon of ale that each soldier quaffed would be welcome—once his captain had departed, thought Roding cynically. ’ Gerald grinned. "'Sdeath! do you trifle with me, sirrah?" cried Rowland fiercely. Better to remain silent. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. Suspicion was in his face. They were those of the Irish watchman. "Shir Rowland Trenchard's affair— eh?" "That's it," rejoined Jonathan; "I expect him here every minute.
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