The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. It was very much like a real house, with one central stalagmite that looked like a column and a waterfall that served when she wanted to bathe. They had heard nothing, seen nothing. For Mr Jarvis was beside himself when the letter come from Mr Charvill and he knew he’d lost you as well as Miss Mary. It was a moment of breathless interest to all engaged in the attempt.
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