Holding a link into the place, which had the appearance of a deep pit, Blueskin noticed a body richly dressed. It was Ennison, who loomed up through the shadows. Not up here, I think. Having secured this implement, he burst from his conductor, and, leaping into the hatch, as clowns generally spring into the clockfaces, when in pursuit of harlequin in the pantomime,—that is, back foremost,— broke into a fit of loud and derisive laughter, kicking his heels merrily all the time against the boards. She had all the fascination of being absolutely perplexing in this respect.
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