The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent. Every inch of the house felt safe to her, small and welcoming. He fended these things off from him with the rump of his fourth piece of cake. A wide terrace then led to large iron gates,' over which were placed the two celebrated figures of Raving and Melancholy Madness, executed by the elder Cibber, and commemorated by Pope in the Dunciad, in the wellknown lines:— "Close to those walls where Folly holds her throne, And laughs to think Monroe would take her down, Where, o'er the gates, by his famed father's hand, Great Cibber's brazen, brainless brothers stand. ’ He nodded in the direction of her pistol. \"May I come in?\" His bravado was increasing. He did not have to. “—but this cannot be. ’ ‘He does not call himself my father, for he calls himself nothing at all,’ Melusine told him, her tone violent with fury.
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