‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. They don’t know who did it, actually. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. Ask your own conscience. He moved slightly, and she went on, with a slight catching of her breath: “It’s a bother and disturbance, but you see—” She had to go through with it now, because she could think of nothing but her preconceived words. 1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg-tm License.
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