"I am no murderer," replied Sheppard. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. He wanted to become a millionaire. Darrell. He made a movement toward her, and then recalled the circumstances of their last conversation in that study. 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.
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