The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. Wild has done his business. Melusine sighed with relief at being alone at last and free to resume her search among the portraits. On a small shelf near the foot of the bed stood a couple of empty phials, a cracked ewer and basin, a brown jug without a handle, a small tin coffee-pot without a spout, a saucer of rouge, a fragment of looking-glass, and a flask, labelled "Rosa Solis. " "My strength fails me," gasped the fugitive. \"But nothing is going to happen. O'Higgins was all that the doctor had imagined a detective to be: a bulky policeman in civilian clothes. Wood laughed louder than ever.
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