"Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. On that first occasion, the delay in locating the entrance to the secret passage meant that she had to wait until morning to make her search. He was nearly wincing. She was dressed in a little white frock, with a very long body, and very short sleeves, which looked (from a certain fullness about the hips,) as if it was intended to be worn with a hoop. The hotel manager was expostulating and Ah Cum was replying by a series of expressive shrugs.
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