If nothing else had clinched that, the purse had. Old Bethlehem, or Bedlam,—every trace of which has been swept away, and the hospital for lunatics removed to Saint George's Field,—was a vast and magnificent structure. ‘And so you sneak back,’ she threw at him, ‘like the jackal that you are. She had paid her bill, and she had enough left in her purse to pay many such. If such a thing in connexion with him had been possible they would have declared that he was in a towering rage. She hesitated about her name, and, being prompted, gave it at last as Ann Veronica Smith, 107A, Chancery Lane. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness.
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