‘Sapristi,’ he gasped. Nicholas is dead. The Master of the Mint. Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared. Moving to the shuttered window, Melusine dragged the heavy drapes back. On the right of the postern against the wall was affixed a small grating, sustaining the debtor's box; and any pleasure which the passerby might derive from contemplating the splendid structure above described was damped at beholding the pale faces and squalid figures of the captives across the bars of its strongly-grated windows.
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