And yet she knew it was not fair to call her a foolish girl. “Number 13, please, cabman. Drawing a pistol, and unclosing his lantern with the quickness of thought, he then burst through an open trap-door into a small loft. Her faith in human beings revived. Monsieur could rely upon his special attention, and for the cooking—well, he had his customers, who came from their homes to him year after year. In doing so, he had to clamber up the immense heap of bricks and rubbish which now littered the floor, amounting almost to a car-load, and reaching up nearly to the top of the chimney-piece.
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