The door was opened for her by a weary-looking youth in a striped jacket several sizes too large for him. She colored faintly. “Go it, miss!” cried one. It was Blueskin. Pretty good stuff, some of it. She would take this one back with her. “MY DEAR VERONICA,—Your aunt tells me you have involved yourself in some arrangement with the Widgett girls about a Fancy Dress Ball in London. Hastening in the direction of the sound, he discovered Thames Darrell, stretched upon the ground. Leaving the panel wide, Melusine dashed to the library door and flung it open, racing into the hall. Her voice recalled him.
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