“By Jove!” he broke out, “one tries to take a serious, sober view. I barely prevailed sometimes, but in the end, my wits were faster than their steel. Then light footsteps became audible, descending the staircase with a certain deliberation and a faint rustle of skirts. "I assure you, Sir, when I left him an hour ago, it was locked. “And all the rest of it perhaps is a song. Hang the wench! Roding was right. The panel in the bookcase. “It’s odd—I have no doubt in my mind that what we are doing is wrong,” he said. He was not Meysey Hill, but an Englishman of business, and he had only a small income.
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