Sheppard repressed the scream that rose to her lips, and both mother and son gazed with apprehension at the heavy figure of the thief-taker, which, viewed in the twilight, seemed dilated to twice its natural size, and appeared almost to block up the window. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. Upstairs, in the little dressing-room, the panel was opened by means of tugging a small candlesconce in the wall. . Then, mysteriously, he no longer smelled or tasted it. Sheila had dropped glaring hints that she knew, which Chuck tacitly acknowledged with a lowered gaze. “Shut up, you little faggot.
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