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There was a flash and a loud report. So far she had not heard the sound of his voice. Half an hour's labour, during which he was obliged more than once to pause to regain breath, sufficed to make a hole wide enough to allow a passage for his arm up to the elbow. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. Melusine gritted her teeth. Skirting the noble gardens of Montague House, (now, we need scarcely say, the British Museum,) the party speedily reached Great Russell Street,—a quarter described by Strype, in his edition of old Stow's famous Survey, "as being graced with the best buildings in all Bloomsbury, and the best inhabited by the nobility and gentry, especially the north side, as having gardens behind the houses, and the prospect of the pleasant fields up to Hampstead and Highgate; insomuch that this place, by physicians, is esteemed the most healthful of any in London. The fact that she stayed on and risked being discovered so foolishly was a testament to something, but what? Lucy’s new form elicited stares and comments from acquaintances before even walking through the doors of Lincoln High School. He reached the top floor and ran down the corridor to the little dressing room at the end where he had lost her before.
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