265 The madness crept around her like smoke under a door. ‘Go and fetch her home,’ he said; ‘it isn’t what we thought! It’s just a practical joke of hers. ” He referred to a sheet of paper by his side. Now I am sorry to cross you in anything you have set your heart upon, but I regret to say—” “H’m,” he reflected, and crossed out the last four words. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. Turning now, and running down the terrace. " "Well, think no more about it," returned Thames. His exploits and escapes are in every body's mouth.
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