He had just arrived from Manchester, whence he had been summoned by that treacherous thief-taker. That dress is thirty years old, if a day. He walked through a wide open archway, curtained with deep-blue curtains, into the apartment that served as a reception-room. “Nigel is like all men,” Lady Lescelles continued. 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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