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He turned his eyes and stared at Miss Garvice like one who wakes from a reverie, and then got up and strolled down the laboratory toward his refuge, the preparation-room. Give me your hand. “You found the flat easily?” said Capes in the pause. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. 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.
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