His own peculiar genius—a miracle key to the hidden things in men's souls—had given him this immediate and astonishing illumination. " "Blueskin, clear the room," cried the Master; "these gentlemen would be private. "There! off with you!" whispered Mrs. ’ ‘Precisely. But, as he made no answer, he was removed. The big gray spaces of London, the shop-lit, greasy, shining streets, had become very remote; the biological laboratory with its work and emotions, the meetings and discussions, the rides in hansoms with Ramage, were like things in a book read and closed. There MULSACK and SWIFTNECK, both prigs from their birth, OLD MOB and TOM COX took their last draught on earth: There RANDAL, and SHORTER, and WHITNEY pulled up, And jolly JACK JOYCE drank his finishing cup! For a can of ale calms, A highwayman's qualms, And makes him sing blithely his dolorous psalms And nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! "Singing's dry work," observed the stranger, pausing to take a pull at the bottle. " "I don't wonder at it," rejoined Gay. That is so awful. It was his heart. His most eager inquiries and most lavish bribes could gain no further information than that she had left for England, and that her address was—London.
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