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“There is a secret. ‘Oh, the Frenchie. ” “Lucy Albert, sir. " "I hope not," replied Wild. ‘Sergeant Trodger is who I am. Will you please—Not now, or I must go. ” So they went this time to the Rococo, in Germain Street, and up-stairs to a landing upon which stood a bald-headed waiter with whiskers like a French admiral and discretion beyond all limits in his manner. . " "God forbid!" exclaimed Wood, fervently; and, as if afraid of prolonging the interview, he added, with some precipitation, "But I must be going: I've stayed here too long already. “I doubted my luck, at least.
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