"I will not submit to be thus interrogated," said Winifred, angrily. I shall find him yet. And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit. Still—” Then, with incredible and obviously deliberate stupidity, and a voice as flat as her own, he asked, “Who is the man?” Her spirit raged within her at the dumbness, the paralysis that had fallen upon her. Notwithstanding the remonstrances of Wood and Winifred, Thames instantly followed the domestic, and found a man, with his face muffled up, at the door, as she had described. Wood, however, was too much excited to attend to the caution. A piece of old blanket was fastened across her shoulders, and she had no other clothing except a petticoat. The rest were hieroglyphic characters, executed in red chalk and charcoal.
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