Thinking of Mantua, she wandered to the courtyard. “I cannot pretend that I am glad to see you, Lady Ferringhall,” he said quietly. A glance satisfied Jonathan that the turnkey was not aware of the prisoner's escape; and he resolved not to destroy what he considered a good jest, by a premature disclosure of it. She got to the driveway and was semi-surprised to see that his car was gone. Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the well. "There were some marks near the window; but whether recently made or not could not be ascertained," replied Winifred. She appeared not to have realised the implications of her outburst, but clung a little to Gerald’s hands which had taken hers in a comforting clasp. She gazed with a quiet detachment toward the window and the Oxford Street traffic, and in her heart she was busy kicking this man to death. Every now and then she fingered an ornament, moved a piece of furniture, or rearranged some draperies.
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