The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. "Oh, God! that I might die too," cried Jack, falling on his knees beside her. “This stirs one. ” “I can’t work. No matter. There was something very wrong. Would you mind drawing them back?” Ennison sprang up, but he never reached the curtains. 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. Gerald was instantly on the alert. “Come with me.
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