be arranged, my dear Soames, by—Mr. King. Where you are to go, is a problem shortly settled: you are to go nowhere; you are to stay here.”…
“Here!”
Soames gazed drearily about the room.
“Not exactly here—this is merely the office; but at our establishment proper in Limehouse.”…
“Limehouse!”
“Certainly. Although you seem to be unaware of the fact, Soames, there are some charming resorts in Limehouse; and your duties, for the present, will confine you to one of them.”
“But—but,” hesitated Soames, “the police”…
“Unless my information is at fault,” said Gianapolis, “the police have no greater chance of paying us a visit, now, than they had formerly.”…
“But Mrs. Leroux”…
“Mrs. Leroux!”
Gianapolis twirled around in the chair, his eyes squinting demoniacally:—“Mrs. Leroux!”
“She—she”…
“What about Mrs. Leroux?”
“Isn’t she dead?”
“Dead! Mrs. Leroux! You are laboring under a strange delusion, Soames. The lady whom you saw was not Mrs. Leroux.”
Soames’ brain began to fail him again.
“Then who,” he began.…
