On that first occasion, the delay in locating the entrance to the secret passage meant that she had to wait until morning to make her search. It took my breath away. One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool. But for me it doesn’t matter. ‘Indeed?’ Gerald said politely. This is part of a dream— some evil fancy. The three clerks fought for the only window, and saw her whisked into a hansom. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.
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