There was no railway beyond Frutigen in those days; they sent their baggage by post to Kandersteg, and walked along the mule path to the left of the stream to that queer hollow among the precipices, Blau See, where the petrifying branches of trees lie in the blue deeps of an icy lake, and pine-trees clamber among gigantic boulders. Maggot, whose nerves were more firmly strung, she contented herself with waving her hand affectionately to her lover, and encouraging him by her gestures. "Who—who is the Marquis de Chatillon?" "Your adopted son, Thames Darrell," answered Winifred. His most eager inquiries and most lavish bribes could gain no further information than that she had left for England, and that her address was—London. “You’ve interested me enormously.
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