“You are afraid,” she said, “that the young man who thinks that he is my husband has upset me. He would have risen again, but for the significance of the action. Both, however, having safely landed, they cautiously crossed the room, and passed down the first flight of steps in silence. I have only just left Wych Street. She seemed to be making some sort of inventory. He, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the pier, in the hope of reaching some of the windows and other apertures with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the bridge were pierced. And, if Rachel had not carried a candle, the room would have been plunged in total darkness.
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