CHAPTER XVII. ‘Tell me the truth, Melusine. ‘You escape from your own convent, at great personal danger. It will be necessary to secure his companion; and as you say he is not in the house, some caution must be used in approaching him, or he may chance to take to his heels, for he's a slippery little rascal. The priceless things were gathered, the belongings packed. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. When her shock and the headache subsided, and she remembered that she had been reading the letter when Gosse had accosted her, she looked for it in vain.
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