“We are not going the right way,” she exclaimed. He had been gone entirely one day, for yesterday afternoon he had departed from Remenham House, and she had waited with patience like a saint, and now it was again the afternoon. It was so hopeless to put it to them. Too late now. Later, she would sew it on. ‘It does not matter, Jacques. The place was gloomy, with its darkly panelled walls, but it was sparsely furnished. 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.
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